Protection from you
by Merith
Summary: In progress Duo opens himself up to Heero, but Heero can't allow himself to feel. How is Duo supposed to keep from getting hurt by Heero's actions, or lack of them?
1. Prologue: In the Night

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Protection from You   
By Merith   
  
Pairings: 1+2, 2+1, 1x2   
Rating: PG (for the moment)   
Warnings: A dash of angst, and a dollop drama   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, its characters or its storyline. But I do enjoy writing about them!   
  
Author's Note: Well, I guess I should start this one off by saying, I owe it all to Satan and her handmaiden - Pia. They know who they are and it's all their fault! I've been exposed to the wonders of GW yaoi, and now am excitedly writing my first GW fic as well as my first yaoi! This piece is dedicated to Himiko - for all the gropes! And with a special thanks to my very non-yaoi friend, Chri, for a bit of assistance in keeping it simple.   
  
**Prologue: In the Night**   
  
~   
  
A muffled groan, instantly stifled, sounded in the dark quiet room. Moments later, the quick shuffling of hurried feet on the carpet could be heard. A door opened and closed before silence reigned.   
  
A pair of violet eyes opened staring at the ceiling while ears strained, listening for the slightest noise. Nothing reassuring made itself known. Declaring the wait over, his body moved;bedcovers flew and bare feet slid to the floor. Padding quietly down the hall, the slim youth paused outside a door. His head cocked with an ear flush to the wood, he listened.   
  
A groan sounded, suddenly cut off by gagging noises. The boy's eyes widen and he whispered loudly, "Heero? Heero, you okay?"   
  
Loud, labored breathing could be heard along with a soft thump. "Go back to bed, Duo."   
  
Stepping back, the boy glared at the door. "Don't give me that shit. Just tell me if you're okay."   
  
Heero's muted reply was lost in the harsh sounds of his retching as it continued. Duo palmed the knob and twisted. Finding it locked, he slammed a fist against the particleboard. "Damn-it, Heero! Why'dja lock the door?" Taking a deep breath, he shoved his shoulder on the door, pushing against the knob with his other hand, straining to force it open. It shimmied, but held.   
  
In the brief quiet following his attack on the door, Duo heard another groan - one that wasn't stifled. A finger of dread licked at his spine and he renewed his attempt, forgetting in his panic he could easily pick the lock. Several house-shaking kicks later, the wood exploded inward leaving the door hanging by a hinge and its knob still glued to the frame, locked.   
  
Rushing by the door's shattered remains he paid little heed to the splinters digging into his feet and the blood dripping from his hands. It took him a moment to recognize his friend. As the scene before him solidified, life suddenly plunged him into a vat of thick molasses, and he couldn't move fast enough.   
  
Heero, his Heero, sprawled on the tiled bathroom floor before the commode. Blood flecked his lips and trailed to his chest, staining his tank a murky green. The white of the toilet and tile smeared red; blood seemed to coat every surface. The strong invincible Perfect Soldier lay ignobly with clumps of vomitus clinging to his hair and a wad of bathroom tissue clenched in his fist.   
  
"Quatre! Wu Fei!" Duo shrieked his voice sounding shrill and loud in the small room. "Somebody! Anybody!"   
  
Kneeling swiftly, Duo raised the near comatose body in his arms. _Oh God. No. No! This can't be happening again!_ Shakily, he brushed away some of the sticky goo and wiped at the blood. "Heero," he pleaded, fighting to keep his voice from trembling. "Hang in there. Help's coming."   
  
Dark eyes opened and stared into his; a grimace of pain flashed through the face's expression before it was quickly squashed. A look, straining with seeming importance implored him to bend closer. 

Heero's hand daubed in blood pulled weakly on his braid. "Duo," his voice sounded as he'd never heard it before; scratchy and frail. "Shut up." 

A ghost of a smile flickered before his lids fluttered closed.   
  
~   



	2. Chapter 1: Mission Failure

Protection from You

By Merith

Pairings: 1+2, 2+1, 1x2   
Rating: PG (for the moment)   
Warnings: A dash of angst, a splash of excitement, and a dollop drama 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, its characters or its story-line. But I do enjoy writing about them!

A/N: Ever notice how author's just can't seem to say enough about their stories? It's a habit worth getting into, cause it makes you very excited about writing and sharing what you write. This particular chapter is in Heero's POV - but I think you'd get that almost immediately. In fact, pretty much the whole story will be written in either Heero's or Duo's POV - I'll let you guess who's going forward - cause that's so hard to do *snort*. A whole Ben and Jerry's chocolate chunk ice cream in thanks to Alba for her terrific support, and characterization assistance. A "I'm only doing it for a friend, not the yaoi." T-shirt for Chri for not only beta'ing the chapter, but offering some sound advice from a male perspective.

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Chapter one: Mission Failure

~

"Dinner's ready! Time to eat!"

At the sound of Quatre's voice, my fingers paused above the computer keys, my eyes never leaving its screen. I waited for the usual scramble from the American pilot, and when it never came, I raised my eyes to see Duo staring - at me. His forehead puckered and his eyes, usually alight with the next joke or prank in mind, were dark and broody. As I waited for him to speak, it suddenly dawned on me he'd been quiet for most of the day.

__

What are you thinking of, Duo? What are you planning? What do you want from me? I narrowed my eyes and was about to snap at him when Quatre appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, didn't you guys hear me? Dinner's ready." Without looking at the desert pilot, I could tell he was puzzled. He hated fighting, especially when conflicts arose between the five of us. 

"Guys?" he asked again, quiet and bewildered. Neither Duo or I had said a word, neither of us had looked away from the other.

Without breaking eye contact, Duo answered, "Yeah, we heard you, Quat. We'll be right there." I could have smacked him as that smart-assed grin of his climbed up his face. "Won't we, Heero?"

"Hn," I managed while glaring at him. Already I could feel my stomach churning. I wasn't looking forward to eating, and wasn't looking forward to Duo watching me throughout dinner -- like he had for the past few nights. 

"Uh.. Well, okay. I'll... uh... see you in a minute then." I could hear Quatre's quiet steps moving to the kitchen and I flicked my gaze to make sure. Not that it was likely to happen, but if Duo got me to talk, I didn't want anyone else to hear. 

"What's wrong?" his quiet inquiry surprised me. Even though I knew it was coming, even though I was expecting it, he still caught me off-guard. 

My eyes snapped back to his and the emotion locked in them nearly made me squirm. "Nothing," I said neutrally. His eyes darkened and his mouth, which was usually turned into a grin, tightened into a hard line._ Hn, I think I pissed him off. _To head off the torrent of unwanted abuse that I knew was coming and didn't want to deal with, I quickly added, "It's nothing, Maxwell. Nothing I can't handle." His mouth twitched but he held his peace. "Go ahead. I'll be there in a few minutes. I need to finish up this research for tonight's mission." 

Duo sat for a heartbeat or two, continuing to stare at me. It appeared he was judging the truth in what I said. After a minute, he rose saying, "All right, I'm going. But if you're not there in five minutes, I'll be back in here to haul your ass to the table." He rounded the couch, and pausing at the livingroom door, his hand on the jam he asked without looking at me, "You would tell me if something were wrong, wouldn't you, buddy?"

I let out a silent sigh. He wasn't going to leave it alone. "If it were something you could help with, yes Duo, I would tell you."

His shoulders slumped slightly. "That's all you're going to say, isn't it?"

"Hn." I went back to my computer, pecking at the keys as though I was really typing or doing something. I couldn't tell him, I couldn't tell anyone; the fact I knew I was dying I wouldn't reveal to anyone. 

When I was sure Duo had left, I stopped pretending and shut my computer down. I had all I needed for that night's mission, and had only to wait for the time to pass. My fingers dug the small bottle of caplets from my pocket and I pried the lid open. Hn. Only three left. No matter, I'll walk to the store after dinner and get more. I popped all three into my mouth and crunched down solidly, turning them into a mushy bitter powder. 

I closed my eyes briefly before stashing my laptop away in the pack at my feet and steeled myself for what awaited.

Entering the kitchen, I saw my usual place next to Duo was empty. Ignoring the unvoiced invitation, I stepped down to the far end of the table. Wu Fei occupied the seat on the other side, spread out as he usually did, and was a bit disgruntled when I nudged him over. I didn't look in Duo's direction, but could feel his eyes on me. Quatre broke off from his quiet talk with Trowa to look between Duo and I. His clouded expression becoming even more downcast than usual. Damn it. I didn't want this. I just wanted dinner to be over with.

Ignoring my companions, I grabbed at the serving bowl in front of me and dished out a spoonful of its contents. Mechanically I added a spoonful of each dish, not looking at what it was, not caring. Food is food. Trepidation bloomed somewhere low in my gut as the food smells hit me. Swallowing against the bile wanting to rise, I began forking in mouthfuls with quick hurried movements. Food done, I finished off my milk in a couple of long swallows and rose. 

Wu Fei stopped his deliberate concise motions to gawk. Trowa paused mid-sentence and Duo stared. I could see he'd barely touched the food on his plate. I couldn't help the slight smirk I gave him before dumping my dishes in the sink. Heading for the door before anyone could say a word, I tossed out, "I'm going to the store, there are a few things I need for tonight's mission." 

Grabbing my jacket on my way out, I heard Wu Fei ask, "What's wrong with him?"

What's wrong with me... if I knew that, I'd be a lot happier. Well, if not happy, at least I'd know. I've lived with the fact I most likely would be killed before this war is over, but I never thought I'd die of some unknown illness. A soldier didn't die that way. I wasn't going to die that way. Not if I could do something about it. 

I jumped the back steps while shrugging into my jacket. I made my way down the alley behind the house and cocked an eye to the sky. A few low clouds scudded, casting a false darkness but didn't look threatening. There was a chill in the air - nothing I couldn't handle and the likelihood of it turning to a cold I couldn't handle wasn't apparent. Quickly, I lengthened my stride, putting some distance between me and the safe house. Knowing Duo, I wouldn't put it past him to be out the door to follow me. 

What had started as sort of a competition game has become a way of life for Maxwell and I. If he knew something I didn't, I worked around him to find it out. If I had knowledge I wanted to remain hidden, he pestered the shit out of me til I caved in. I've often thought Duo could be put to better use by the resistance in dragging secrets from enemies. I knew it was only a matter of time before he got this secret, and, for the sake of my sanity, I hoped I was dead before that happened. Looking at the sky again, I thought tonight just might be the time. 

At the end of the street, I rounded a corner and looked back. I didn't see anyone following me but I waited a minute or two just to make sure. A quick scan of the area showed no one about and nothing seemed out of place. Continuing, I began noticing the little details of the neighborhood we were currently in. Most of the safe houses we're shuttled off to are more remote, in less populated areas. This house was in the middle of a suburban city, complete with lawns and flowerbeds. Well, we wouldn't be here long. Tomorrow, if we were lucky, we'd be on our way to another place and another mission.

If I lived through this one, that is.

The thought of tonight's mission set me on edge. I could feel my body steeling itself, honing its reflexes and sharpening its awareness. Though my mind drifted, the body acted automatically as it was trained. Distant noises became clearer, kids playing. A park, maybe? Surely it was well beyond school hours. I closed off the idea of investigating and turned down another street. 

Food. The manna for life, and the recent bane of my existence. Even as I walked I could feel the churn start, the slow tentacles of pain elongating to hold my stomach in its vice grip. An empty stomach hurt, caused a weakness I hated, but an empty stomach didn't hold me hostage to the pain. Over the past couple of weeks I discovered that eating lightly and taking aspirin took the sharp edge away, allowing me to function. Though the safe house held many types of pain relievers, some of the strongest doctors can supply, I couldn't become dependant upon them. Most were too strong, dulling my wits and relaxing my awareness. Besides, someone would notice and begin asking questions. 

With a start I realized I'd been standing in front of the small market for several minutes glaring at its doors. _Smart, Yuy, real smart. Way to blend in and not stand out._ Shaking the 02 pilot's phantom voice from my head, I followed a chatting couple into the store and ducked down the first aisle. 

Scanning the exits quickly as well as locating all employees and patrons, I noted any with the potential to cause a problem. It seemed as it appeared, a small local convenience store with normal everyday people shopping and working there. Taking one of the aspirin bottles from the shelf, I made my way up to the counter. A small display caught my eye and I stopped. I held one of the bags in my hand a tendril of some feeling - wistfulness? - curling its way up to settle in the base of my throat. It wouldn't hurt and if tonight went as I thought, it would be a way... Shoving those thoughts down deep, I made my purchase quickly and left, both items stuffed inside my jacket hidden from sight.

Once outside, I pulled the aspirin out and breaking through the safety packaging, I shook out three of the tablets. I swallowed these. As used to the bitter aftertaste as I was getting, I still preferred to swallow the whole tablet. At the rate they dissolved, I was sure I'd need that pain breaker by then. 

Out of habit, I used a different route back to the safe house. Feeling the last lingering bite of pain abate I became aware that almost of their own accord, my feet had taken the path that wound through the park. _Shit. Not what I needed before a mission._ Taking a deep breath, I tried to bring my heart rate back under control. This was not the same. Nothing would happen to anyone just because I walked through their park. I leaned against a tree, fighting the weakness that had threatened to overcome my legs.

"I bet you could run faster than that if you tried!"

My eyes flew opened and looked quickly toward the voice. Damn. Duo was in the park. Whether he'd come on his own or had attempted to trail me, I don't know. But to leave from where I was, I would have to walk through an open expanse and he would see me for sure. At the moment, his attention centered on a small group of kids playing some sort of ball game. Duo had his jacket off and his arm cocked back ready to throw. The look of it caught my breath. He seemed so ...happy. 

Crouching low on the path, I watched as he tossed the ball back and forth with the kids, calling out encouragement and gentle teasing. At one point in their play, Duo stopped to pick up a small boy and spin him around. Too young to play their game, the tot had sulked off to the side. Seeing how he handled those kids so naturally and without thought, I had a sudden flash of what he would look like, what the man he would be like in another ten years - with kids of his own. My heart began to thump loudly to my own ears and I looked around quickly to make sure no one noticed its change in beat. 

I sat down hard with my back to the tree, no longer watching the group._ What the hell's wrong with you, Yuy? You know what's going to happen, if not tonight then soon. Stop thinking of things that cannot happen, cannot be._ I was surprised to feel a wetness on my cheek and wiping at it, I stared in appalled horror at the drop of moisture on my finger. Heero Yuy, crying? And over what? Something that will never be? Shit.

Doctor J's training kicked in and I could feel the muscles in my cheeks hardening, my jaws clenched in painful tightness, and my brows dropping into their accustom place. I shoved my fisted hands into my jacket pocket to keep from hitting something as I drove thoughts of a violet-eyed baka with long, braided hair from my mind and sealed them from my heart. _They have no place in your life._

"No more! I have to go find the friend I told you about." I could hear his voice calling cheerfully.

Carefully, I peered over the hedge and watched the black-clad pilot give a friendly wave and meander off down the parallel path I was on. Waiting until he was nearly out of sight, I rose and followed, feeling the ironic humor wash over me. The hunter became the hunted, and I was a good predator. 

It had gotten darker and the clouds rolled in thicker, adding more of a chill. I watched as he hunched further into his jacket and a ghost of a smile flickered on my lips, recalling Duo's frequent complaints about the cold. In order to keep him in sight, I had to slip in through the trees, getting closer to his path and always remaining a few dozen feet behind him. 

Whether it was the cold or random thoughts, I didn't know but Duo failed to notice trouble in his way; failed to prepare. Three teenaged punks had him surrounded before I could call out a warning and their cruel game had begun. I held back, knowing him to be quite capable of handling civilians of this caliber. 

Their leader I named Godzilla, for he had the appearance of huge raptorial beast, catcalled to him. I could tell the punk believed that by his looks Duo was effeminate but quite the opposite in actual fact. His cronies laughed harshly, and one of them pulled on that damned braid. I watched him with narrowed eyes; the rat-faced bastard had more than a little taunting in mind.

Duo tried where I wouldn't have. He held his hands out in a placating manner, talking to them in his good-natured way. The one unnamed punk slunk behind Duo and, darting forward, he shoved him into Godzilla. I heard the impact from where I stood as he landed hard against the larger teen. 

"Hold the pansy," the leader issued the rough command.

The two grabbed Duo's arms and held him tight. Still I kept back. The American pilot had been in worse situations and escaped without a scratch, I didn't think these three could touch him. I was wrong.

Godzilla slugged his ham-like fist into Duo's mid-section, causing him to grunt with its force. Allowing the punch's momentum to assist in pulling one of his restrainers off-balance, Duo fell back into the rat-faced punk. Expecting the fall in a different direction, the other bastard tripped, releasing his hold on Duo's arm. 

Because of the sudden release, Duo and rat-face stumbled backwards. The former street-brat regained his balance; his arm still trapped in rat-face's hands. Smiling his God of Death smirk, he grabbed the back of the punk's neck, and pulled downward bringing up his knee to connect with his nose. Screaming, rat-face clamped his hands to his face, freeing Duo. 

Spinning before the other guy could move, Duo struck out with his fingers stiff into the punk's side. The slime bent double and, taking advantage of his position, Duo delivered a blow to the back of his head. Another punk down.

Dropping into a crouch, 02's pilot turned his smirk to the remaining gang member. Godzilla was in trouble.

The two circled one another warily, Godzilla still hadn't realized his mistake. The big teen swung a wide roundhouse punch which Duo dodge with ease. Coming up under the still swinging arm, he launched a double blow of fists to the punk's chin, knocking him back several feet. Stepping back, the cocky pilot did a little fancy footwork, and mocked a series of punches at his opponent. I shook my head in disgust. _Just get it over with, Duo. Stop playing with him and get on your way before something happens. _

As if he could hear my thoughts, he suddenly closed the distance between the two. Using the ground as a pummel, he dove and planted both hands solidly only to swing his legs around as if on a vault to land a powerful kick to his attacker's chest, dropping him like a rock. Standing up, he dusted off his hands staring at the downed opponent. 

"Fuckin' punk, I could have taken you out eight years ago. Pansy, my ass," Duo ground out in his pissed off way.

Neither of us saw the rat-face bastard move. He had disappeared from my peripheral and I'd believed him to be out of the action. One second he was screaming as if stuck, the next, he had Duo's braid wrapped around his arm and a knife at his neck. 

My turn.

I knew the punk was shouting something at Duo, but I was past hearing. Blood pumped and thrummed in my ears, and in three long strides, I was behind the attacker. While one hand grabbed and held the wrist welding the knife, the other fisted and slugged as hard as I could muster to his temple. 

Another rock down.

Looking disgusted at the knife now clutched in my hand, I threw it out into the trees, and looked at Duo. A strange expression flashed through his eyes before his lips twitched and I knew he was about to say something smart-assed. A groan sounded behind us, and I spun, hand going for my Glock tucked in my waistband at my back. Duo's hand was there, and he stopped me from pulling it.

"Let go!" I snapped at him.

He leaned forward, pressing close against my back and said in a low whisper, "There are people on this path. You pull that gun and you'll have to shoot them all to get away. Not a good way to stay out of sight." I grunted and he let go of my hand. _God, I hate it when he's right. Smug bastard._

And Duo was right. The sounds of the fight had brought several people to the area; most stood and gaped. One woman was on a hand held vidphone, calling for park security or some sort of authority. We had to leave before anyone got there.

Already moving forward, Duo put on his most innocent and charming façade. "These guys jumped my brother and I, but we have to go home now," he addressed one man who bent over the fellow I'd dropped. "His knife is off in the bushes that way," he added with helpfulguile.

A child, the toddler too young to play the ball game the others had, called out, "Didja find your friend?" His mother pulled him back closer to her, her eyes wide and frightened. 

Laughing, Maxwell threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me away with him. "Yeah, and mom's going to be mad if we don't hurry. So, I'll catch you in the park tomorrow if I can." We were already outside the crowd's circle and heading down the path.

Several hundred feet away, Duo dropped his arm and we both sprinted through the trees in a round about way back to the safe house. Pausing at the same corner I'd stopped at not two hours prior, we caught our breath and looked around for any disturbances. Seeing none, I turned to glared at him.

"Mom?" It wasn't what I wanted to say, but the best I could come up with at the moment.

Duo grinned but didn't answer. Jerking his head down the street, braid flying about, he took my arm and tugged on it. "Let's get back now. The others will be waiting."

Whether they were waiting for us or going about their normal nightly routine, the three other gundam pilots sitting at the kitchen table looked up in surprise as we came through the door bringing in the cold and the crisp autumn smell with us. Without saying a word, I hung my jacket on the peg at the backdoor and headed for my room. I wanted a couple of hours' rest before the mission; the nap would also serve to keep the others from asking questions.

When I woke, the room was dark. I hadn't meant to fall asleep. I usually don't sleep just before a mission. Naps can sometimes backfire and make you groggy. 

I had the impression of footsteps on the stairs, doors opening and closing, quiet goodnights absorbed through the half sleep I used while in mission mode. Duo had come in, stripped quietly and climbed in his own bed without waking me fully. I was used to his coming and going, the noises he made during the night. We had shared a room for the better part of a year already and his movements were ingrained into my being. 

Looking at the clock, I discovered it near midnight. I turned off the alarm, knowing I'd never sleep any more this night. I still had over two hours to reach and scout out my objective. I hated these types of missions. Assassinations. I would rather destroy whole fleets and bases with Wing. Slipping into a target's house, garroting them in their sleep and watching while they fought for their last breath wasn't what I enjoyed. 

I shoved those thoughts away, scowling. Death was death, whether killing in the Gundam or with my own hands. I was a soldier. It was what I did.

In the darkness, I dressed. Remembering the chill and hint of more to come, I pulled on that ridiculous sweater Duo gave me while scouting a site on L3 a couple of months ago. At least it was black - mostly, warm and didn't restrict movement. If I didn't know better, I'd swear 02's pilot had it made especially for me; usable enough for me to not want to rid myself of it, yet quirky enough to cause him to laugh every time he saw me wear it. It didn't help that the damned thing had small dark gray doves stitched all over it. Doves? I shook my head. Whether he meant the joke to be doves of peace, or a play on my Gundam's name, I didn't know. Either way, he obviously thought the sweater and I belonged together. 

Quietly I padded down the stairs and, reaching into my jacket, I pulled out the bag purchased earlier. When I went back up to our room, I paused, ready to leave, pack in one hand and the bag in the other. Using all the stealth I had, I crept to the edge of Duo's bed. I don't know why I bothered; he slept like the dead anyway. Looking down at him, I felt a grin tug at a corner of my mouth and resisted the urge to touch him. As small and compact as he was, he sprawled on his bed in complete abandon. He'd always been a restless sleeper, nightmares aside. 

I set the bag down next to his pillow. He'd know who it was from; he'd know why if tonight went as I expected. Picking up the end of his long braid, I gave it a gentle tug and whispered softly, "Shut up, Maxwell." One last twitch of the lips, and I turned from him, putting him and all he represented behind me. I had a mission to complete.

Finding the objective wasn't hard; I'd already researched the net for the easiest routes, along with five alternate routes just in case. A little over three miles from the safe house, the target lived in a world far removed from that neighborhood. Opulence abounded; it seemed no expense had been spared for security. Locating exactly what that security entailed had taken me the better part of four hours that morning. My mission was to disable the security system, sneak into the residence, search for specific papers and any data files on the computer, plant bombs with timed detonation devices, and kill Representative Choy.

If this mission had been a simple demolition job or even a document retrieval one, Duo would be out here instead of me. But, for their own purposes, those in charge believed me to be the better assassin. In a lot of ways, I am. In a lot of ways, though, I knew the teen well enough to know he wouldn't think twice about removing this target. The man was scum in a five thousand dollar suit. 

I'd already scouted the perimeter and knew where the guards were positioned. I also knew the best point of entrance to the residence and the best path to get there. Now I had to settle back and watch the guards, timing their schedules and routes. A small knoll gave me the perfect spot to watch the activity on the grounds without jeopardizing my position. Though I had night goggles with me, they weren't necessary at this point. The grounds and security fence were washed in light from lampposts every ten feet. It gave me more than enough light to see by. 

Lying on my stomach, I situated my pack close, leaving only my binoculars out. The distant rumble of thunder almost caused me to curse. The storm was still far off enough I hoped to be long gone before it arrived. In spite of wearing the sweater, the chill made itself known. Ignoring the cold, I brought up my glasses again, watching the movement below, counting the steps, giving the guards names as they marched in and out of my vision. 

Maybe ten minutes later, I realized I'd made a mistake. I'd forgotten to take aspirin before leaving. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I started gasping for breath. I rolled on my back trying to take the pressure off my stomach. This wasn't good. My hand shook as I dug in my jeans for the bottle. Normally I take three; now I poured several directly into my mouth and crunched down on them swiftly before swallowing a small amount of water from my ration bottle. 

Closing my eyes, I fought the sweats and flash fever, wishing I had the strength to pull off that blasted sweater. One hand pressed hard against the pain in my abdomen, the other reflexively ran itself through my bangs, pulling on them to distract from the pain and help stifle the groans threatening to erupt. My knees drew up and I rolled to my side, curled in a fetal position. Shit this was bad. I shook all over as wave after wave of pain wreaked havoc over my body. If I didn't have a mission, I would have used my weapon. 

I'd lost sense of where I was and began to rock myself, drawing in gasping breaths, trying to cool the fire raging inside. Somewhere along the way, I drifted.

Water splashed on my face, running down the side of my neck to pool at my back. I blinked my eyes open, staring at the sky, disoriented. A few stratocumulus clouds hung low overhead, spitting a light shower but didn't quite block the dawning sun in the distance. I frowned, trying to recall what I was doing sleeping outside. The realization of just where I was and why I was there hit me. I groaned and rolled to my side. 

Shit. I blew my mission. 

Bile rose hot and acrid in my throat. Gagging, I retched and coughed, bringing it up and spitting it out on the grass beside me. Great. Thoughts of my weapon tugged at me. Wiping my mouth, I rinsed it out using the water from my ration bottle. 

Picking up my equipment, I packed it silently. No. No use of the Glock today. I had to return and face the results of my failure. 

~


	3. Chapter 2: Mission Discovery

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Protection from You

By Merith

Pairings: 1+2+1, 1x2x1, 3+4   
Rating: PG (for the moment)   
Warnings: A slice of angst, and a scoop of drama 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, its characters or its storyline. But I do enjoy writing about them!

A/N: Ah, well, what can I say? I'm hooked, and I feel this burning need to crank these chapters out. At any rate, I want to thank some pretty special people for helping to shape this chapter: Alba - as always, my character reader. Chris - for helping me keep it "straight". *snort* Niamh - for correction and being game to enter a new genre and anime for me! A salute to Saro, for correcting Duo-speak, and Hans for the thumbs up!

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Chapter two: Mission Discovery

~

There's nothing I hate worse than being woken up. I mean, I hate it. Oh, I don't mind waking up, and I don't mind my alarm going off because I have something to do and have to get up. I hate waking up for no apparent reason other than someone wants me out of bed.

The vid-phone blared like a claxon alarm - again, and I buried my head beneath my pillow_. One of the guys will get it._ Was my first thought. _Heero? _I raised up and looked toward his bed. 

It was empty and made. Asshole. He's the only person I know who'd make his bed before a midnight mission. Hell, I never make my bed, and I'd be damned if I'd make it before leaving on a mission.

Which brought me back to the vid-phone. It was already past daybreak, and Heero should have been back by now. I fairly flew from my bed, out the door and down the stairs, by-passing Wu Fei as I did so. I heard him call my name, something about crazy Americans, and stopped in front of the screen. I couldn't do it. I couldn't answer the damned phone. The call could only be about him and I didn't want to know.

The phone rang again, even more shrill than before, and still I froze.

"Pick it up, Maxwell. You were in such a rush to get here," Wu Fei drawled as he entered the room.

I don't know what he saw in my expression, but he moved forward quickly and pushed me out of the way. "I'll do it," he said quietly and flipped the switch. 

"Good morning, pilot," the nasally tones of Doctor J made me shudder. Now I was glad Wu stepped up to answer. I do not like this guy. Not sure why, could be the way he _created_ Heero. 

"Good morning, doctor. What do we owe this unexpected pleasure?" 05's pilot could be diplomatic when he needed to be.

"I hope you all have had a good night's sleep. The mission scheduled for this evening has been changed." I heard the shuffling of papers and the engineer clearing his throat. "Our covert operator has uncovered extensive information that makes it essential Phoenix base is completely destroyed. The data necessary to complete this mission has been transmitted to 01's computer. In fact, I wanted to take this opportunity to congratulate Heero myself…" he paused and I heard a curious tone in his voice when he continued, "Where is 01? He is there, isn't he?"

I'll hand it to Wu Fei, he didn't hesitate to supply, "He's busy at the moment, doctor. Should I have him contact you later?"

The technical doctor cleared his throat again and waved away the offer. "No, that won't be necessary. Tell him his training did not fail by keeping him from completing his mission. If he would have followed through…"

I didn't give him a chance to finish. Stepping forward, I pushed Wu-man out of the way. "What do you mean, didn't complete his mission? Heero always completes a mission."

Able to see the doctor now, I wished I'd stayed out of sight. He peered at his screen, surprise written on his face. "Oh, it's you, 02. Why didn't you step forward earlier?" he demanded.

"Chang beat me to the com, sir," I supplied without blinking.

"Well, any way, what I was saying is, if 01 had followed through on his mission, this evening's objective would not have worked. The loss of a certain party would have proved disastrous, and the information we require would have been lost." He shuffled papers on his desk some more and I risked a glance in Wu Fei's direction. 

A lot of help he was; Wu shrugged and waved me back to the phone. 

"Ah, sir, what," I paused, believing I was on delicate ground. "What makes you think 01 didn't complete his mission?"

The prick frowned and peered at me again. "That's need to know information, pilot. Now, as to your mission tonight, I've sent the plans to destroy..." the guy rambled on, but I stopped listening. The front door had opened, and Heero walked in. 

Talk about rode hard and put away wet, I doubt he could have gotten any more bedraggled. He stopped just inside the door, watching Wu Fei and I. Wu stepped forward and Heero was about to speak. In a flash, I knew that would not be a good idea. "That's great, sir," I interrupted in an overly loud voice. "We'll be sure to have pilot Yuy contact you when he appears. Have a good day." With that banality, I hit the disconnect button and ended his transmission.

"Heero!" I had already passed Wu Fei before the subject of my destination held up a hand stopping me. "What?" 

His glare flicked between Wu Fei and I before he asked, "Who was on the phone? What's going on?" He hadn't moved forward, but had the door closed behind him and stood staring at us.

I snorted and Wu Fei supplied, "Doctor J. He's changed our mission orders for tonight."

Heero gave a short nod, and walked to the desk in the corner. I barely had time to blink and exchange a look with Wu before Heero had his laptop out and was powering it up.

"Uh, buddy?" I began, "What happened last night?" I had followed him and, hopped up to perched on the desk's edge. 

He raised his eyes from the screen to glance at me. I held his look for three or four seconds and dropped my gaze. Something must have happened, and he wasn't happy.

"What are the new orders for tonight's mission?" Wu Fei asked from the doorway. He had pulled on his t-shirt, and was in the process of binding his hair. Not that I cared, but I'm sure my hair was sticking out all over the place.. 

It had taken him a couple of minutes, but the glowering pilot read off a few highlights for the upcoming fun. Cool. It looks like I get to set some explosives and blow shit up. I could already feel my mouth stretching into a grin. 

"I'll have the orders printed out, and we'll go over mission plans at 0900. Maxwell, make sure the team is up and ready," he was already barking orders in that controlled terse voice of his. "It'll take a few minutes to get everything completed here, so Chang, get breakfast started. I want to get everything locked down before this afternoon. By 1500, I want everything prepared for one last check."

I heard Wu Fei leave, and the sound of banging pots and pans let me know he was at work in the kitchen. I sat still and watched Heero. He was doing it again; keeping something hidden he didn't want to share. He'd been pretty secretive, skipping meals, taking naps, and avoiding me. He didn't look well. Oh, not as bad as he had after he'd been on a few rough missions, but I could tell he was hiding something. 

"What's wrong with you?" I blurted out. Great. Just fuckin' great. Like he's going to answer that kind of question. Those piercing blue eyes pinned me again. I noticed for the first time how dark the skin appeared under them. Something was going on with him. "You look like hell, and that prick doctor thinks your "training" kept you from completing your mission last night." The blue eyes widened with that statement. Ah, so it was as I thought. "I know you, and you don't deviate from given orders without something going wrong... so, what's wrong? What really happened last night?" I'd softened my tone to just above a whisper. 

He glared at me and turned away. "Get dressed, Maxwell. We have a mission to plan." His fingers began flying over the keys again.

I wasn't leaving. This was war. Heero had never held out on a secret from me for this long before, so this must be something big. Idly, I began swinging my legs and fiddling with the end of my braid, I searched for something, anything to talk about - to drive Yuy crazy enough he'd tell me whatever I wanted to know to shut me up; without killing me that is.

"So, ya' know, I was watching TV last night, and there was an anime on. Rurouni Kenshin, it was called, and it's pretty cool. Have you ever seen it?" I paused and he didn't even look up or respond. "Well, it's all about this guy who became a warrior - a samuri at a young age. He was an orphan, just like me, and there was a war going on in Japan. Many people were being killed, many people were dying with the injustice of the government. Anyway, this Kenshin guy is all about helping put an end to misery - trying to build peace, and he killed a lot of people." Maybe this wasn't the kind of story he needed to hear, but what's funny, it really did happen. I don't mean the anime, but those events really did happen. And this Kenshin character fought for what we were fighting for - only he with a sword and we with our gundams. Different times, different weapons, same reasons. 

Guess I was silent too long, for Heero had stopped typing to look at me. "Is there a point to this?" he asked.

I blinked, forgetting for a moment I had been speaking to distract him. Instead, I got distracted and wanted to think on this a bit more. "Will it end? Will there ever be peace" What the ...? Where the hell did that come from? 

He continued to stare at me for several long moments, his brows drawn low, and his face a smooth cold mask. Suddenly, if only for a moment, his expression softened and his eyes held a hint of something... some emotion? "I don't know, Duo." his voice was quiet and low as though he were reluctant to supply that answer. 

The sigh escaped before I could stop it and I looked away. Staring at a tiny hole in the wall behind the desk, I leaned back on my hands, trying to make sense of what and where my thoughts were going. Trying to put it together in a way I could explain it better, that blemish in the wall gave the active part of my mind something to concentrate on while the deep part worried through those half formed thoughts. It was an odd shape, too small to be anything but a nail hole, but what an odd place to hang a picture. "I sometimes just want to know what normal is and if we'll ever be there again." 

My body shivered involuntarily and I brought my gaze back to Heero. He had been watching me with that same - soft? - expression as before. Wondering if he would fall for it, I asked quickly, "So, what's wrong with you and what happened last night?"

His brows drew down and he glared. Damn it. "Go get dressed." He'd already turned back to his computer again. 

Giving up all pretenses, I leaned forward, shutting the computer's monitor as I did so. "Give it up, Heero. You know you're going to tell me eventually, and you might as well now because I'm not going to leave it alone." I all but hissed inches from his face.

Not missing a beat, he lifted my hand from his computer and tossed it away before lifting the monitor back into position. He blinked and, glancing from his computer to me, he opened his mouth to speak. I leaned closer, sure he was going to tell me now. 

"Go away, Maxwell."

"Shit!" I shouted and jumped from the desk. "You can be so ....anal!" I stomped from the room and stopped. I didn't want to be mad, but damn it, he was really pushing my buttons! 

At the stairs, I turned to go back and paused. Heero had closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. He dug something out of one of his pockets, a medicine bottle of some type, and opening it, he popped whatever the contents were in his mouth. I almost went to him, I had to see what it was, but I held back knowing he'd rebuff me once again. Leaning against the wall, I watched as his hands rubbed at his eyes, and a soft groan sounded. Deciding I didn't want to know, not right at that moment, I turned away and crept softly up the stairs, leaving him to himself.

I raised my hand to knock on Quatre and Trowa's door when it opened suddenly. Trowa stood, dressed and ready. "Uh..." He blinked at me as I fumbled. "Heero's back, and he wants all of us at a mission meeting after breakfast."

Trowa nodded, his hand on the door. I would have liked to have gone in to talk with Quat, but it looked like 03's pilot wasn't moving. We stared at one another for another moment before Trowa gave in and supplied, "I'll let him know." He looked over his shoulder a moment before saying in a low voice, "He had another nightmare last night." 

Nodding, I turned and went to my own room. Quat had been having nightmares a lot lately. Shutting the door behind me, I could feel it begin, the guilt gnawing at me. Shoving it off roughly, I stared at Heero's bed. It was still made tight enough to bounce a coin on. My lips already lifting in a lopsided grin, I didn't stop my hand from pulling up on the blanket, and tossing the pillow to the far end of the bed. I chuckled as I grabbed my clothes off the floor. I know, it's petty. But shit, he makes me so mad. 

Starting to pull on my pants, I stopped and thought about taking a shower first. I didn't take one the night before, giving it up to go look for Heero, and that didn't turn out so well. Snorting, I headed for the bathroom, whistling softly and thinking how irritated my being late for a mission meeting would make the Perfect Soldier. 

I was still grinning while braiding my hair. Someone, Wu Fei I think, had come up and knocked on the door while I was still lost in the warmth of the water. The spray muffled the voice, but I was pretty sure it was a command to turn out immediately. Taking every moment I could, I sauntered down to the kitchen and smirked as every pair of eyes looked my way. "Save any breakfast?" I quipped looking over the remains on the table. I knew there would be something to eat; no matter what's happening, Quat demands a plate is kept for me. 

"You're late." There was a distinct growl in our leader's voice, one that promised more than threatened bodily harm. 

Sliding onto a chair, I flashed him a wide grin. "I had to take a shower." I missed the glare he sent me and concentrated on pulling the half-filled plate towards me. "Hey, thanks a lot, Quat, for..." I finally looked at the desert prince. My hand stilled in the middle of scooping out more eggs. "Lil' bro?" I asked softly. 

His normally fair face was drained white, pinched and strained he appeared to barely be hanging on. His eyes returned my stare, wide, disbelieving and thoroughly troubled. Trowa leaned close, his shoulder brushing the smaller pilot's. "Duo, I-I..." He lowered his head and I could see his lips quivering in his attempt to not cry.

__

What the hell was going on? I whipped my head around to Heero, braid flying to where its end slapped me in the face. "What's going on, Yuy? What's happened to Quatre?" I wasn't playing any longer. I, too, could growl if needed. 

"Nothing's happened to Winner," his quiet tone held an edge. I settled back, eyes never leaving his. "The data Doctor J provided indicates OZ has plans to use the WEI satellite in connection with a new power beam weapon to destroy the colonies."

"They can't do that!" I exploded, jumping up and knocking over my chair.

Giving me an exasperated look, Heero stated calmly, "They're not. We're going to blow up their new weapon, take the WEI satellite plans, and set off a worm in the data base erasing all traces of this weapon." 

"Oh," I sat down, a little more than chagrined at delaying the mission meeting. This wasn't just business, this was personal. Cheeks flushed, I looked at the blonde pilot. "Quat, it's going to be all right. Don't worry." He gave me a watery smile and turned away again. What the hell was going on? "Pal?" As if a bright shiny new light bulb went off, I knew what was wrong. "Oh shit. The nightmare." He flinched in response. My own eyes widened with the shock and I exchanged a look with Trowa. I didn't think the others knew, but these nightmares...they weren't the usual guilt, death, murder ones the rest of us had. Quatre's premonitions had come true before.

I could hear Heero shuffling but kept my attention on the blonde pilot. If we weren't careful, he could fall apart on us and be useless when we needed him the most. Pushing back my plate, I turned back to our leader completely serious and ready to hear what he had to say. "So, what's the mission?"

His eyes flicked from mine to my plate then over to Quatre and back. "Finish your meal." 

Shaking my head, I intoned, "Not hungry any more."

"Hn," he replied before picking up a handful of papers next to him. He began passing them around as he spoke. Wu started piling plates and bowls, moving them out of the way and Trowa spread out a map. "There are five warehouse buildings at the main complex of Phoenix base. One of these buildings houses the offices of General Banark, the one in charge of "Operation Blue Ribbon". An operative of the resistance discovered plans to destroy each colony station using one of its own satellites to do so." I saw his eyes flash to Quatre but I kept mine on him.

He pulled out a sheet and read from it directly, "Blue Ribbon is believed to have the firepower and range to effectively eradicating colony existence. This weapon is being built in building four." I felt his eyes on me and I looked up. "Maxwell, your mission is to plant all detonation devices. It is imperative to demolish building four. You got that?" I nodded and he moved on to point at the crudely drawn map spread on the table. "01, 03, and 05 will come from the North and East, attacking here, here and here." His finger tapped the map, identifying gun garret targets and Leo storage sites. He went on describing where Quat and I would come in from the opposite side, using their attack as a diversion, plant the bombs at buildings one and two before moving onto building four.

It took the better part of an hour to fully appreciate the tactical strategy Heero set before us. I'd protested the use of Quatre in a stealth move, but he explained patiently that Winner was the only one who could recognize the satellite plans. It still didn't sit well with me; Quat's hand to hand was virtually non-existent, and while a small-scale battle would be taking place on the other side of the compound, OZ wasn't accommodating enough to leave all their buildings empty and ready for us to blow them up.

I sat, playing with my juice glass, lost in what I needed to do to prepare for tonight's mission. It was hours away, but I inventoried my supplies in my mind. I'd have to go to the warehouse and rig some stuff together, but it shouldn't take too long. I could get Howard or one of the other guys to help. I know Brad wanted to try a new array and this might be the opportunity we needed to test it.

"...things ready and meet back here at 1500 for plans check." Heero had been saying. He had stacked his papers back together and rolled the map up, looking like he was leaving. The others were nodding in agreement. Whatever it was, I'd catch up with Quatre later and find out. Heero was out the door and I could hear him climbing the stairs.

Turning my attention back to the group at the table, I announced, "Don't touch the dishes, I'll get them later." I shoved my chair back and padded quietly after Heero. 

Easing our bedroom door open a crack, I could see Heero stretch out on his bed, not even bothering to straighten the blanket. I could feel my frown settle watching him when a grimace of pain flashed and he pulled that damned bottle from his pocket again. He crunched down on the pills and closed his eyes, giving a slight hiss. Nothing he can't handle, huh. We'll see about that. 

I used all the stealth I could muster gaining access to our room. He didn't notice me creeping along the floor to his bed – it just went to show how very bad off he really was. I must have made a noise, and that's probably what saved him from my full wrath. His arm came down and his body tensed just before I pounced on him. I had straddled him, pinning his legs beneath my body, and my hands planted on each shoulder.   
  
"You're going to tell me what's wrong, Yuy, 'cause you're not getting up, and you're not going anywhere until you spill it," I hissed in a deadly whisper.   
If looks could kill, I'd have been dead more times than Jason and Freddie combined... yeah, I know, pretty cliche, but when talking of Heero, it's the truth. As it was, he demanded, "Get off of me."   
  
"No, not until you tell me what's going on." 

  
His gun was out and pointed at my chest. "I'm going to kill you if you don't move." 

  
Now, normally when this guy pulls a gun on me, I know he means business and I usually retreat. But this was a fight I wasn't backing down from. Leaning forward until the muzzle touched my shirt, my eyes never leaving his, I whispered, "Then pull the trigger 'cause I'm not moving."   
  
Those words hung in the air for several seconds. I watched as several flashes of deep hidden emotion flickered across his face. When it finally settled into his normal cold mask of indifference, I found myself flying through the air. I guess I was wrong - I did move. Damn him and his strength!   
  
I landed hard on my back between his bed and mine, the breath knocked out of my lungs and leaving me seeing stars. Shaking my head to clear it, I looked up at him. His back was to me, and he had curled over, supposedly getting some sleep. Sitting there, I glared at him. The thought I might lose this war flitted through my mind. I'd never lost a war with Heero yet, and I wasn't about to now. Still, I couldn't help asking, "You would tell me, wouldn't you? If something was really wrong. Right?" I winced at the whining quality of my voice.   
  
He sighed. His voice was muffled but clear enough, "Duo, leave it alone. If it was something you could help, something you could do for me, I would tell you." He rolled over and looked at me, his expression almost pleading. "Let me be. I need to sleep and I need to rework my virus program for tonight's mission. I can't think about ..." he paused, "this any more."   
  
It must have been the look for I was nodding in agreement with him, still sprawled on the floor, worry and anger combating for first place in my heart. When he rolled back over, I rose and left quietly. Shit, that didn't go well. 

Wu was in the living-room going through the motions of his kata as I passed. I watched him for a moment, forgetting how much he hated an audience at his morning ritual. I couldn't help it; he was liquid motion, smooth, graceful, fluid. Shaking my head, I felt the grin crawling back up on my face. The guy had rhythm but couldn't dance for shit.

Quatre and Trowa still sat at the table. Lil' bro was lost in his thoughts, lost in his damned dream and Trowa was there to keep him from getting too lost. He looked up at me as I entered and began removing the stacked plates from the table. Trowa's green eyes held plaintive quality I couldn't help but answer. 

Leaving the dishes, I pulled Heero's vacated chair close to Quat's other side. Throwing an arm around his shoulders, I started speaking gently. "Listen, lil' bro, you have to shake this shit off. Nothing's going to happen... not to the colonies, not to you ... not to me." His lower lip started to quiver again. I pulled him into a rough sideways hug. "I won't let it happen! There's too much we have to do, too much we have to take care of for that to happen." I whispered fiercely into his hair. 

He broke down then, his arms encircled my waist and his face buried into my chest. "Duo, it's happening... it's happening just like my dream. All those people dead... and ..." he raised his tear splattered face, "and you."

The way he said it, I couldn't suppress the shudder. Using it to my advantage, though, I gave him a huge head-splitting grin. "Quit it! You're giving me goose-bumps, ya' nut!" He started to blink and the tears stopped. "Hey, did you notice Heero didn't kill me for being late? Rather surprised me, that did. Thought I'd be a goner for sure." Distraction works every time.

Frowning, Quat remonstrated, "Duo, you really have to try, you know. You can't keep making him mad just because you think he's fun to tease. One of these days he's not going to be able to control himself."

"Heh, as if! He'll never catch me." I winked. "I'm too fast." That earned me a giggle, and I relaxed seeing Quat already wiping his face dry, straightening himself up. He was going to be alright.

A look flashed between him and Trowa, an almost private one I was surprised to witness. Not looking at me, his eyes still on the green-eyed pilot, he said softly, "You might want to slow down one of these days. Let him catch you."

I sat back and looked between the two. What the...? My lips twitched but I suppressed any questions wanting to be asked. Now was not the time. I knew Quat loved Trowa with a passion that radiated from every fiber of his being, but since when did he show it so openly? And to Trowa no less? Trowa's stoic demeanor didn't change and I shifted uncomfortably. I was going to have to tackle Quat and find out just what the fuck was going on between them.

Standing up, I picked up a pile of dishes, and made my way to the sink. "Hey, lil' bro, think you could help wash this mess? I need to get my ass over to the warehouse and do some rigging." Like I said, distraction works every time. 

The two of us splashed our way through the pile, even wiping counters and table down, in less than an hour. We were used to working as a team, Quat and I. Trowa had taken himself off somewhere, and neither Heero or Wu had shown themselves. 

Seeing my chance, I grabbed at the blonde pilot's sleeve. "So, what's between you and Trowa? You tell him yet?"

His face flooded red and his eyes rounded. "NO!" he said a little too loudly. We looked around quickly to make sure no one was headed our way and he turned back to me, leaning closer to keep it private. "He... I... last night, he held me after the dream." I could have sworn the red was bleeding through his roots, and his hair was turning scarlet. 

I didn't think my smile could stretch any farther, but I sometimes surprise even myself. "That's great, Quat. It'll happen for you pretty soon." 

"I don't know, Duo... he was just a friend offering support," he ducked his head shyly. I had a weird sense of deja vu remembering the many time Quatre and I were together talking about this same topic. I'd been trying to get him to admit to the silent pilot his true feelings; I was pretty sure they would be returned. I've seen the way Trowa is around lil' bro, and it isn't just as a friend.

Clapping him on the shoulder, I changed the subject, "Didja wanna go with me to rig a few sets?"

Grateful for not dwelling on that painful subject, he nodded. "I'll see if Wu and Trowa need to go check on anything as well." He fairly skipped out of the room. 

Left to myself for the moment, I stared up at the ceiling as if I could see through the layers of plaster, paint and wood to spy on our oh so fearless leader._ Why won't you tell me? What are you so afraid of, Yuy? Don't you know yet, I wouldn't do anything to hurt you?_ I shook my head and made my way into the other room.

~

The four of us stopped on our way back to grab lunch. It had been a fun couple of hours, and for once, Wu Fei joined us, even cracking a joke - at my expense of course, but it was still a joke. The car we had used to transport us back and forth was an old nondescript piece of shit like we usually used at the safe houses. "Fit in, don't stand out" had become the motto of our life. We looked and acted like four teenaged boys, out of school and on just this side of the edge of raising hell.

I guess I should have known it had been going too well. Quatre was actually smiling and had forgotten to worry or even think about his nightmare for several hours. He had been effectively and throughly distracted. Our good humor carried over into the safe house, Wu chasing me inside for the wet willie I had to give him. And with Quat actually laughing, and Trowa smiling in a paternal sort of way, it was rather a shock to come face to face with Mr Badhumor himself. 

Glowering at us from beneath his bangs, he waited until we were all inside and had quieted down. "I would have thought you would be getting ready for tonight and not out running around." He looked at each of us in turn, his eyes pinning us to the floor and unable to move. Resting on Quat, he added harshly, "You most of all, Winner. I would have thought you would want to make sure everything's been taken care of before going out to ..." those cold merciless eyes landed on the fountain cup he held, "play."

Talk about a damper. He sure threw one on our party. Stepping forward, I held out a hand in supplication. "Come on, buddy. We weren't "playing". We went down to the warehouse and prepared not only our gundams but the explosives for tonight's mission. We didn't do nothing wrong."

Those eyes swung my way. Oh shit, he was pissed. What the hell was his problem, anyway? 

"You are prepared for tonight's mission, then, Maxwell? I will not allow your frivolity to cause us to fail."

Oh, fuck him with the broomstick he rode in on! I'd had just about had enough of his mouth and his attitude. "Yes, Heero fuckin' Yuy, I am ready for tonight. And I'll keep my 'frivolity' away from your mission." If looks could kill, he would have been at least knocked out. I stormed to the kitchen and began banging things around. I couldn't go up to our room; he'd just follow. I couldn't go outside; it would make it worse. And I couldn't give in to how hurt his words made me feel.

Leaning against the sink, bracing my arms on its edge, I took several deep breaths. I felt a comforting touch on my back, and relaxed even more. 

"He doesn't mean it, Duo. I..." Quatre's voice was low and concerned, "I think he was a little jealous we didn't take him with us."

Giving my head a little shake, I whispered roughly, "It doesn't matter. He has no right to say what he did. He had no right to come down on you like that."

His head rested against my back for a moment. "Maybe he is right, though. I should be concentrating on making sure everything is set for tonight's mission. It's my family's satellite that will do the destroying if we fail."

Trowa entered at that moment, and I heard him sit at the table. Forcing myself to laugh, I pushed away from the sink and turned to face my friend. "Pal, no matter what happens tonight, it is not your fault. Don't ever think that." He blinked at me, wanting... no, craving that bit of reassurance. "Now, how about a game of gin? I still have to win back the two bucks you won from me yesterday."

Quatre nodded and zipped out of the room to get his deck. Sighing, I watched him go and suddenly discovered the HeavyArms pilot's gaze on me. Grinning, I went to the table to watch as he field stripped and cleaned both his and Quatre's guns. He must have been cleaning guns while still in diapers; he didn't even have to watch what he was doing, his fingers moved automatically. 

"Thank you," he said quietly before dropping his eyes back to his hands.

Puzzled, I frowned at him. "What for?"

He raised his head again, giving me a measured look. "For how you take care of him."

For a moment I couldn't breath. Did that mean Trowa cared? I mean, really cared for Quatre? There was a ringing in my ears, and I was on the verge of saying something I wouldn't be able to take back. "Listen, pal, as far as Quat is concern, I would do anything for him. But I think if ..."

"Here they are! I thought I'd lost them for a moment." The blonde pilot came bouncing back into the kitchen carrying cards and a pad with pencil in his hands. He hesitated looking between Trowa and I.

Sitting back, I grinned at him. "Then come get your ass kicked, pal."

For the rest of the afternoon, I spent keeping Quat's attention distracted and off tonight's mission. He was under pressure enough without stewing in it for hours. Sometimes I wish we didn't have to know what our damned missions were until just prior to. That way there'd be no time to do anything but plan and prepare. 

Trowa had finished his preparations, packing both his and Quat's bags and setting them aside. He rejoined us at the table to watch the desert prince skunk my ass and paddle it pink. No matter what I say, I suck at cards.

Wu-man arrived just before three o'clock, well, 1500 hours, as per our instructions, and took a seat. Quat and I cleared the table and waited for our dictator. Always punctual, he appeared with his map, photos, laptop and mission outline. This time, I was as far from him as I could get without being outside the room. I leaned against the wall at Quatre's back, looking over his shoulder, listening to Heero go over the same plans as he had that morning. 

Sometimes I wonder at myself. I mean, here I am about to face one of the largest skirmishes we've seen so far on Earth, and my mind's off and running. Oh, yeah, I listened, with the part of my brain I knew had to know, but the rest of me was focused on Heero. I nudged and poked at those thoughts, and, prodding them awake, they became raging before the meeting was finished. He hides so fucking much behind that cold facade of his, never giving an inch without gaining a foot. How was I going to get him to tell me what was going on inside.

A jab in the ribs brought me around pretty quickly. Glaring down at Quat, I rubbed the sore spot. He had the nerve to giggle. "What?" I demanded.

He smiled. "Heero's asked you the same question at least three times now."

Oh, shit. I raised my eyes to find said person regarding me steadily. Swallowing and trying to ignore the sudden nervous tic my left eye was making, I asked, "What's the question?"

His eyes still on me, measuring my awareness I think, he gave a short nod before saying, "I'd asked if you would be able to carry all the explosives necessary to carry out your mission. There are at least three buildings you have to destroy. The other two are optional, but if you can manage it, I'd like to hit those as well." 

I gave it some thought. They were large warehouse types, a few simple charges of C4 wouldn't do it. It would take several arrays per building, even with the new more powerful ones Brad and I put together this afternoon. Each array weighed approximately five pounds. Including the detonators, I'd have to carry roughly two hundred and fifty pounds. Nearly double and half again of my own weight. I probably could do it, but I wouldn't be fast, I would be staggering. Reluctantly, I shook my head. "There's no way I could carry enough to blow all the buildings in one shot. I'd have to make a couple of trips." Red stained my cheeks knowing he probably wouldn't have had a problem with weight or speed.

Another one of his searching looks before he dropped his gaze back down to the map again. A long minute passed before he stated, "Here's what you're going to do, then." As he began to outline a variant strategy to the one given this morning, he caught my interest and I leaned forward drawn, in spite of myself. "...and before you get to building four, you'll return to the Deathscythe and retrieve the second pack. Quatre will continue on his own to..." 

"No fucking way! I'm not going to do it! Mission refused!" I shouted, slapping my hand down on the table.

"Duo!" Quatre stood up abruptly next to me. His face was inches from mine. "You have to. It's the only way."

I turned my glare on him. Didn't he understand he had about a snowball's chance in hell of making it there and out on his own? 

His voice became that of the controlled leader we knew him for as he stated, "Look at what we're up against. Nothing else can be done. The time frame is very short. We have to be in and out, and for both of us to go could cost us the mission. It is logical tactically if we separate to complete the mission." 

"Listen, pal, I am not going to leave you on your own. You'll have to come back with me, and that's all there is to it."

"Maxwell," the asshole began, "You will follow orders or I will have to kill you." 

Glaring didn't work with him, but I gave it my best. "If I had a nickel for every time you've said that..." 

Quat pulled on my arm. "Duo, please. It's the only way." His face held that pinched desperate look I'd worked my ass off all day to keep at bay. "Besides," he ducked his head, "the way you're acting, it's like you don't think I can handle myself. That I'll walk up to the nearest OZ soldier and ask directions to where they're keeping the plans."

The shaking started slowly, a rage I couldn't check when a situation is completely out of my control. A situation I knew would result in someone getting killed, and that someone was one I cared for deeply. By the time I spoke, my whole body was vibrating, throwing off waves of animosity. "I won't have any part of your plan to kill Quatre. I will do as you've commanded, but he stays with me and we both go to building four together." 

Trying to focus, my eyes darted from the satellite photos to the map and an alternative idea crept its way into my mind. Never really being the first to devise a plan, I was unsure but determined to make this work. My anger was contained - barely. My hand shook so bad I could hardly hold the pencil steady. With quick deft movements, I altered his plan, talking the whole time. 

"Death and Sandrock will come in from the east behind Heavyarms. With the three of us, we should be able to power our way close to the buildings. Heavyarms will plant himself here, between buildings three and five, dropping two packs."

My eyes scanned the photos once more. "Shenlong will come down the from north, taking out this garret and that outbuilding. The satellite photos show a heavy storage of Leos on that side, Wu should be able to hold them off at least until we've made it past the front line." 

Looking over the map and photos again, I circled the targets. "Wing should be able to take out these two garrets, and draw the attention away from a couple kids running between buildings." My death smirk found its place on my face, and I could feel the cold dark seeping into my blood. "You should be able to take care of building three without explosives, but just in case, carry a pack and drop them in yourself." 

I threw a freezing look in Heero's direction. "Quatre and I will work from the back forward, building one, building two then building four. As soon as they're planted, we'll make it to the main offices in building five, grab the plans, launch the worm and leave. Once in Deathscythe, I'll give the signal, we jet, and I blow the mother-fuckin' base."

There was absolute silence at the table when I finished. Having said my piece, I backed away from the table, the blood pounding in my ears died down, and the shaking stopped. 

Wu was the first to move. He drew in a deep breath and looking between the map and me, he said in a hushed tone, "I think it will work." This broke the paralysis holding the other pilots. Slowly, as if dazed, heads began to nod. Even Yuy the Perfect was nodding, his dark eyes watching me.

"How come you've never stepped forward for strategic planning before?" 

Raising my eyes to his, hidden anger still smoldering, I answered grimly, "Because you've never tried killing one of my friends with your plans before." I heard Quat gasp and saw Heero flinch. I was past caring. I think if he tried, outside of shooting me, I could have taken him down at that moment.

Instead of the anger I expected, he gave a short nod. "Follow your emotions, Duo."

I shook my head and pushed myself away from the wall. I was at the door before his voice stopped me, "Do you have your equipment ready?"

Shit, does he never give it up? "Yes, Daddy, my equipment is ready," I replied without turning around. I ran up the stairs and slammed the door to our room. Yeah, I was being petty, but I needed an outlet. Normally I didn't get that worked up outside of Deathschythe, and usually I would have had an outlet. 

I threw myself down on my bed, burying my face into my pillow. Why is it he can bring out the worst in me? Pulling myself upright, I looked at the clock. Great. I had exactly two hours before I had to leave for our gundam hiding spot. I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling, on arm over my forehead, I watched as the shadows lengthened and the lights grew dim. I knew I should get up and really get my equipment ready. I hadn't touched it since we'd arrived at the safe house. I'd been carrying my gun around on me, but that's about it. I hadn't had to use it in a couple of weeks, and all my other equipment I did check before the last mission. 

And I sulked. Sure I was angry, but Heero was doing what he always did, planned a mission the best way he could. I knew he wasn't trying to put Quatre in deliberate danger, that's why he'd asked me if I could carry enough without leaving him. Mostly, though, I was mad he was still holding out on me and I didn't know what else to do to get through to him. 

The door opened and I didn't realize he was there until he stopped at the end of my bed. 

"Duo?" his voice was quiet, "I need to work on my program, but if you want to sleep, I'll go downstairs." He waited.

I shook my head and sat up. "I can't sleep now, too close to show time." He made his way to his bed, and began to set up his laptop. I leaned over and pulled out my duffle bag and pack. "Besides, I need to get my equipment ready for tonight." I hid the twitching of my lips as his fingers paused over the keys. That was all he was going to get out of me in the way of an apology, and I think he knew it.

Gathering my stuff was pretty easy. Of course I didn't bother folding or even separating clean from dirty wear; everything went into a ball and everything got shoved as far down in the duffle as it would go. I even got my pillow and blanket down there this time. Looking around the room, I made sure everything I owned, besides my jacket hanging on the peg downstairs, had been accounted for and packed. 

A corner of some bright color peeked out from under the bed and I bent over to pick it up. It was a small bag of circus animals. Holding it between two fingers, I frowned. This wasn't part of anything I had packed, though I often picked them up when I could. Flashes of my mad dash out of the room this morning flitted through my head. Oh. They had been beside my pillow, but then... 

Whipping my head around, I peered at Heero. He steadily clicked and clacked his way through whatever program he was creating, and either didn't notice what I'd been doing, or didn't care. I looked back at the bag, turning it over in my hands. The expiration date was still a month off, meaning they most likely were fresh, just purchased. Circus animals. What made him think of that, and why did he buy them for me? Giving myself a mental shake, I packed the bag carefully in my pack, the one I'd be carrying with me. Those pink and white icing covered animal crackers had fed me for two days once before, who knows when that would come in handy again. 

Packing done, I headed for the door to go check on Quatre. I was sure he was going to be upset at my display, and worry himself sick over the night's mission.

"Thought you were going to check your equipment." 

I stopped and opened my mouth to say something. Snapping it shut, I spun back around and undid the straps to my pack quickly. I hardened my expression, not quite but almost to the point that it matched Heero's death glare. Dropping the pack to the floor, I tossed my gun and cleaning kit on the bed before digging out an old towel to lay parts on.

Everything set, I began to field strip my Glock. Though not the blind experts Heero or Trowa were, my training kicked in and I worked by rote, recalling the step by step directions as I seethed. 

__

Fuckin' can't leave it alone, can you, Yuy. 

*Remove magazine, eject chamber, firearm unloaded* 

Always pushing. Never willing to let anything slide. 

*Pistol up, pull trigger, grip pistol back, slide lock out, set down* 

Got your equipment ready, Maxwell? I'm going to kill you, Maxwell. Leave me alone, Maxwell. 

*Push slide forward, separate from recoil, set aside, push recoil spring forward, lift spring, remove barrel*

Don't worry about Quatre, Maxwell. Do your job, Maxwell. 

*Move lever, remove trigger pin, remove locking block, punch out trigger mechanism housing* 

Fuckin' hide everything. You're a rock. That's right, a rock. Plymouth rock. Rock of Gilbralter. Rock of Ages. 

I snorted silently. 

*Remove depressor plunger, take out firing pin safety and extractor, pull firing pin assembly* 

Don't ever give me a break. Don't ever let me in. Don't ever... 

"Oh shit," I said breathlessly staring in horror at the parts in my hand.

The clacking stopped, and I could feel more than see Heero lean forward. "What is it?" he asked.

Turning to him, my hand shaking slightly, I showed him the broken firing pin assembly resting on my palm. Putting his laptop aside, he rose and went to his pack, looking through its contents. "I have a spare you can have." Finding what he was looking for, he set the small package down beside me, and went back to his programming.

I sat staring at him for a long moment. _Fuckin' amaze me, Yuy. Always fuckin' amaze me._ It was as simple as that. No harsh words, no reprimands, no repercussions. I'd been an ass, believing I was set, and he'd been right, insisting I do my job. Looking at the broken assembly in my hand, I wondered what would have happened if I hadn't given in and cleaned my gun. Fearing to go down that path, I opened Heero's package and began working on doing my job.

Before the two hours I'd allowed myself were over, I had gone over every piece of equipment in my pack, twice. The room was saturated in the fumes of Hoppe oil, smelling metallic, oily and acrid clean. 

Leaving my packs for the moment, I went to the bathroom to wash my hands and scrub my face. I tossed the towels in the tub, knowing someone along the way would come clean up after us, either using the house again, or removing all evidence we were here and getting rid of it. Smoothing the fly-away tendrils of hair back, I stared at my reflection.

"Duo Maxwell, you are an ass and one day your negligence is going to get someone killed." 

Turning from the mirror, I was surprised to see Heero standing at the door. He didn't say a word, just watched me from beneath his bangs. I could feel my cheeks heating, wondering if he'd heard me talking to myself. I could have sworn I'd shut the door when I came in, but I guess I hadn't. Looking away, I said lightly, "I'm almost finished if you need to..."

"No, no need," his answer was quiet. I looked at him again, wondering what was going on behind those dark unexpressive eyes. His feet shifted and I wondered if he were nervous. "I've finished the program." He shoved a diskette into my hands. "I've given one to Winner as well, in case..." he left the rest unsaid. The directive is to destroy that weapon and destroy the blue prints to make another at all costs. "It's set to execute on download, hack its way into the mainframe, and trace back to all references of 'Blue Ribbon'. Thanks to OZ's isolation policy, removing the plans from this mainframe should take care of this threat." 

I nodded and slipped it in my breast pocket without saying anything. Finished in the bathroom, or at least as finished as I was going to be standing before the sink in front of Heero Yuy, I moved towards him. He stood aside, letting me slip past.

"It's a good plan." Now, I stopped and turned back. He wasn't looking at me but the floor as if the weave were the most interesting thing at that moment. "Mine would have gotten 04 killed."

His words hung softly in the air between us. He'd given me the inch; I wondered where he'd be taking the foot from. "It might not have. Either way, if you hadn't insisted I clean my gun, Quat would have been."

He raised his head and stared at me directly. "You don't know that. You might not have had to use your weapons." I was already shaking my head but before I could speak, he threw the words I spoke just a few hours before back at me, "No matter what happens tonight, it wouldn't be your fault. Don't ever think that." 

As I stood gaping at him, he spun on his heel and went back to our room, closing the door softly behind him. I blinked at the door, wondering if I heard that right. Shaking my head ruefully, I followed in his footsteps. I needed to get going.

Heero was back on his bed working on his laptop. I wasn't sure what he was doing this time, but didn't bother thinking about it. It was time for me to work into my Shinigami mode. I had decided this afternoon to walk back to the secluded warehouse. The walk wouldn't take long, at most an hour, and would give me time to gear up to the night's work ahead. I lifted the pack and settled it on my back and glared at the duffle. Though I didn't have much, that damned thing was heavy.

"Leave it. I'll make sure it gets on the carrier to the next hide out," his voice intoned.

Giving him a small grin, I nodded. "Thanks, bud. I wasn't looking forward to carrying it." At the door, I paused. "See you later."

"In an hour." 

I left and didn't look back. Making my way down the hall to the stairs, I could hear Quatre speaking with Trowa down in the kitchen. At the bottom of the stairs, I spotted Wu Fei in lotus position, meditating. Without saying a word to any of the others, I left the house and made my way up the street.

Each one of the pilots has his own way of working himself into their gundam mode. 

Wu Fei usually worked his kata or mediated, working the justice in what he was about to do into his system, offering him some measure of comfort to appease any guilt. At times it was difficult to get him to fight what he perceived were weak soldiers and not worth his efforts. But putting him into his justice mode removed those reservations. 

Heero usually clacked at his keyboard up until the last minute of departure. There have been times I've wanted to sneak up behind him to find out what it was he spent so much time writing. I never have. I've even had plenty of opportunities to snoop in his laptop, see what he keeps hidden in its depths, but I never have. His use is almost reverent, and it would feel too much like desecration to pry. 

I wasn't sure exactly what Trowa did, if he did anything. I do recall the last couple of missions I'd shared with him and Quat though, he spent a lot of his time with the desert pilot. And that blonde prince soaked up the attention. If only they'd both open their eyes, how happier they'd both be - at least for as long as they could. 

My lips twitched into a smirking grin. Quatre, now, he was completely different. He has had to keep his hands busy doing something, and most of us had learned to put a constructive task in front of him. Left to his own devices, I've seen the boy tear nearly a whole notebook of paper into long narrow strips. Once he got it into his head he had to bake cookies. It wouldn't have been so bad, but he didn't want to leave when it was time because the last batch had just gone in. Luckily for him, it was just the two of us on that mission, and I indulged his "frivolity". 

Walking wasn't really the way I worked myself into the Shinigami, but I needed the time to go through the reasons I was here. I needed those reasons, I needed them to rip my scars wide and leave those holes open and bleeding. To be effective, I had to feel the pain, let it wash over me and direct it at a focused target. I don't put myself through that well with others around.

Each step I took, each step closer to my Gundam, I remembered. 

I remembered the streets. I remembered the cold. I remembered the hunger. I remembered the fear.

Smells often trigger these memories, and smoke does it most often. Images of the Maxwell Church flashed through my mind. I placed a name to each face of every one of the orphans. I recalled the words of peace and caring Father Maxwell voiced; his image forever locked in my memory. Mostly, I remembered her hands. Sister Helen at prayer, smoothing a boy's fear, and teaching him to braid his hair. 

Adding to the mix were pictures of being imprisoned, of cruel treatment, beaten and questioned for hours on end only to be tossed into a dank dark cell and trying not to give in to the depression that threatened at the impending execution. 

And always the last, the vision burned into my mind of a young man, driven past any semblance of normalcy, standing on his Gundam's platform, depressing the destruct button. 

Hell, yeah, I was ready.

~


	4. Mission Gods of War

Protection from You

By Merith

Pairings: 1+2+1, 1x2x1, 3+4   
Rating: PG-13 (for language for now)   
Warnings: A double serving of action, spiced with intrigue, with just a hint of angst, and topped with drama 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, its characters or its story line. But I do enjoy writing about them!

A/N: Originally I wanted to write this chapter in a third person POV, jumping from character to character to tell the story. It wasn't working, so I had to go back and rewrite it a couple of times to correct the flow. A very special thanks to Alba and Hans - thank you again for all your help and encouragement!

Chapter three: Mission Gods of War

~

It always amazes me how quiet Wing is when the need to be is paramount. We came from the north and east, surprisingly quick for something that large. Beam shield in place, I powered the Gundam's beam saber to life. A gun turret and most of one side of the fencing was gone before the alarm was raised. Never stopping, speeding forward with saber slashing and buster gun firing, we left a path of death and destruction in our wake.

The alarm ringing out was the signal for the three other Gundams to appear. Heavyarms was in the lead, as the plan outlined, and he worked his weapons as he knew how. The pilot and his Gundam plowed through flanking troops bent on joining the foray with my adversaries. On one side of Heavyarms, the gray and black Gundam, Deathscythe, harvested a crop of screeching metal and screaming soldiers. On the other side, the black and tawny Gundam, Sandrock crushed all resistance it ran into.

Taking down another opponent, I paused to note where the other pilots were, and if any seemed in need. I saw the base scrambling, as figures ran to their Leo mobile suits. Sudden flames erupted, brightening the night and taking all by surprise. Painful screams and terrified shouts were heard, joining the confusion. The blue, gold and gray Gundam, Shenlong, strode forward, removing the North parameter fencing and fired a cannon shot at the last remaining gun turret. That target removed, the pilot turned his Gundam to the storage yard filled with Leos. 

I jerked my attention back in time to catch a Mobile Suit in mid-swing. Blocking the blow, I delivered a short sweep of my beam laser, cutting the suit in half and killing its pilot. Turning, I faced a contingent of MS's that had escaped Shenlong's flames. My focus narrowed, and I blocked all distractions.

As in most attack missions, radio silence except for absolutely necessary communications had been initiated. These standing orders didn't mean a thing to Pilot 02, however. Duo Maxwell was never quiet unless it was a stealth mission, and then pity those of us stuck with him after it was over. As though he saved all the words he would have said until after the mission, and once completed, he would unleash them all at once, many times over. 

Music blared from his outside speakers; the heavy guitar and bass sound added to the confusion and noise. By this time, all the Gundam pilots had long gotten used to operating with the clamor, and it seemed to disorient the OZ ground and mobile troops. 

Firing off a Vulcan missile at one of the warehouse targets, Maxwell's voice shouted through the com link, "Woohoo! Take that you sons-of-bitches! You have just met the God of Death! How does it feel, assholes?" He grunted as an MS slammed into him, and the com went quiet as he fought the suit off.

"Fuckin' A! Think you could take me down, bastard," his voice sounded more terse than jubilant. Noting this oddity, I risked glancing at the monitor aimed in his direction. I saw the scoring across his Gundam's chest; the MS must have caused some damage. 02's cockpit vid showed his face wearing the customary manic grin and fevered light in his eyes; he seemed to be in normal Shinigami mode. I turned my attention back to my opponent.

The music changed, and raucous clashing metal sounds rang out of Deathscythe's speakers. "Get the hell back! Run for your fuckin' lives, you losers! We are the Gods of War, and you're all going to die!"

I grunted trying not to waiver in my concentration.

"01, 05," Chang's voice sounded intense with fury over the com. "Request permission to kill 02."

A rare grin flashed. I almost felt the anger rolling in waves through the air. "Negative, 05. Pilot 01 will take care of Pilot 02."

"Make it quick, 01."

Toggling a lever, I switched from open com to a single burst. "Maxwell, cut the chatter."

"Ah, Daddy, but I wanna play with 'em." Was that laughter in his voice?

"02, if you do not cease the banter, I will be forced to remove you from the mission."

"Ooh! I love it when you talk rough to me!" This time, I did hear the laughter. He grunted and I heard a gasp. My glance flickered over his monitor again, and I could see he seemed startled by something.

"Status, 02!" I demanded.

"Going stealth. Watch your back," the quiet reply came and he disappeared from my sight.

My proximity alarms rang, loud and obnoxious, demanding my focus back to my immediate area and away from pilot 02. I spent the next several seconds clearing out the MS's that had made their way behind me while I was distracted.

Deathscythe reappeared almost in front of me, close enough that I saw Maxwell through the cockpit window, his usually congenial face tight and drawn. Already swinging his scythe beam, he sliced through several of the mobile suits that had surrounded me. Automatically, I turned my back to his, and fought within the arc in front of me, trusting 02 to not allow any to break through his defenses.

Flipping to an open com, I demanded a status from all the pilots. We'd been fighting for over ten minutes, and time seemed to be slipping through our fingers. OZ would have surely sent backup troops any minute, and we still hadn't completed the mission.

"02 fine and dandy!" Maxwell quipped his usual response.

"03 check," Heavyarms' pilot replied.

"04 check," Winner's voice was strained, but determined. 

"05…" there was a long pause without sound. "Check."

"05, reconfirm status."

Another long pause was heard. "05 will have to withdraw. There has been a…" a muffled noise sounded. "Complication." 

"Explain," I demanded. Without Chang's support on the North side, the mission could have been in jeopardy 

"Extraction necessary," his mysterious response surprised me.

I grunted. "Proceed, 05. RV in 00 – 1 hours, safe house 13. Confirm."

"Acknowledged. 00 – 1 hours, safe house 13, confirmed." Already I heard his Gundam firing the launch sequence to remove him from the fighting.

The area surrounding Wing and Deathscythe was littered with the metal remains of a good number of Leos, more than I wanted to think about. Alternate plans flitted through my mind on how to cover both sides of the base, while 02 and 04 infiltrated the buildings to complete the mission. 

"02, 04, commence plan." 

Maxwell's voice sounded a touch strained, but still in good humor. "Nothing doing buddy, too many baddies out here to leave you to all the fun. Give it another five. We'll make it, it'll just be tighter."

"Negative, 02. Stick to the plan." I had already moved away from Deathscythe, striding towards the abandoned North quarter. "03, change watch parameter to target five. Defensive watch and distraction."

"01!" Deathscythe's pilot yelled through the open com. "Don't be an idiot! Both of you cannot hope to hold off all these guys on your own. Just wait!"

Turning, I leveled my buster gun at his Gundam, and demanded, "Move, 02, or I will be forced to use this."

Deathscythe stomped back to Heavyarms' side. Through the private link, I heard normally over-exuberant pilot cursing me, but I ignored him, and continued to cover the northern quarter.

When it came, the sudden silence was almost a shock. The music stopped, and all chatter was cut short. Knowing that could only mean 02 had done as he was told, and the mission moved forward, I concentrated my focus on those in front of me. A unit of ground troops, on foot, attempted to target the knee joints on Wing. A well-aimed HE unit could disable my Gundam and allow other injuries to be made. Clamping my jaws tight together, I swept through the ranks, blocking out the blood and the sound of their screams. 

Time both sped and crept along. Urging 02 and 04 to hurry and set their charges, I wiped my brow. I could feel the stiff fingers of pain clawing from the inside, and resisted the compulsion in my limbs to shake. Dredging up aspects of my training, I ignored the pain, ignored the signals my body was sending me. I pushed all thoughts and feelings from my mind to complete the mission. I could not fail as I had the previous night.

My concentration was so intense, so focused on taking out the Leo suits, it came as a complete shock to hear both 02 and 04's voices over the open com. It hadn't seemed as though enough time had past for them to complete their directive. 

"On my count, ready to launch," Maxwell commanded. My fingers automatically keyed the sequence series to lift off. "Oh, shit," his voice was quiet. I paused, and glanced at his monitor. His head was down, bangs hiding his face, but I saw he was biting his lip. 

"Status, 02," I demanded.

"Fucked up the ass," he growled, and looking into the vid, he added, "The detonator's busted. I'm trying to bypass its broken grid." I heard an alarm sound from inside his cockpit, and he ripped his attention away from me. "Goddamn son-of-a-bitch! Can't fuckin' leave a guy alone for a minute can you?" I watched as his hands danced over the controls in his Gundam.

"04, report. Can you cover 02 while repairs are being made?" All business, I kept the wave of frustration from my voice.

"Check," Winner's reply came, serious and quiet. "I-I apologize… I shoul..."

"SHUT UP!" Maxwell shouted. "Just get that bastard so we can blow this popcorn stand."

I glared at the vid. Something had happened, but now was not the time to discuss it. I had been monitoring OZ's communications and knew we had less than ten minutes before we had company. Lots of company. "02, provide ETR."

"Fuck! I don't know, Yuy. This bastard's being a bitch, and I don't exactly have the tools necessary to do the job right."

Wiping the sweat from my brow again, the gnawing pain flowered from my middle. Blowing a deep breath out, I toggled the switch to private mode, and asked quietly, "Can you do it, Duo? Is it possible, or are you wasting our time?"

Something in my voice must have caught his attention, or my use of his name did; I hardly ever used a name over a com. He stopped working and raised his head to stare at the vid screen. "Yeah, Heero, I can do it. But it's gonna take some time. The board's cracked, and without a replacement, I've got to rewire the connectors, jumping the broken circuits. With only my fingers, and this shitty pen-knife, it's not impossible, but I'll need a few minutes."

I glanced at my watch again. Less than seven minutes now. Not enough time. Switching to open com, I drew a deep breath and began. "The mission has been compromised. 02, 03, and 04, retreat. Less than seven minutes until reinforcements arrive, and I will have to complete our directive. Bug out now."

Silence followed my announcement, and not waiting for anyone to say anything further, I made my way to the prime objective, building four. Ignoring my heart hammering in my chest, the tightening of my gut, and the sensation of wanting to vomit, I typed in the series of commands to self detonate Wing. I blocked out all noise, all distractions as I worked, occasionally wiping the sweat from my brow. From a distance, I heard the other team members' voices shouting, but I couldn't spare a moment to see what they were doing. I had given them their orders; it was up to them to accept them or not.

"God damn it, Heero!" 02's shout finally jerked me from the haze of concentration I'd fallen into. "You are not going to do it! Give me a minute!" I glanced up at his monitor and saw his face was red, angrier than I'd ever seen it. He seemed frantic, his movements spastic and not his usual graceful, fluid motion.

Quietly, not quite sure why I spoke, I told him, "I have to, Duo. I have to complete the mission. It is the only way."

He heard me for he started shouting again, "No! You do not have to do this! I'm almost done, just give me another minute!" I saw him raise his head to look up at the vid, visibly shaking as he said in a low deadly voice, "You are always looking for some stupid excuse to self destruct. Well, you can just go fuck yourself, this time, Yuy." Waving a flat piece of plastic and electronic circuitry in the air, he announced triumphantly, "I did it, asshole, so back the fuck off. Now."

I stared at him for a moment, anger, resentment, and borderline hatred wavering. I had wanted to die. I wanted to end it, to stop the pain, to stop feeling. Now, with his efficiency and skill, that option had been taken from me. Startled, I realized Deathscythe was actually positioned behind me. Feeding the frustration and anger I felt, I ducked Wing low, and spun around, sweeping out with one heavy arm. Wing shuddered with the impact. But it had accomplished what I wanted. Deathscythe faltered and fell to one knee. 

"SHIT!" Maxwell yelled. "What the hell are you doing?" 

Wing was already up and posed. I hadn't drawn my beam weapons; I didn't want to hurt him, I just wanted to… hell, I don't know. I just wanted to let some of this anger out and he was there. 02 was quick, and I almost didn't see his attack. As it was, I was barely able to block the blow, and missed the move he made to ram into Wing's middle. My Gundam went down hard, crushing the building behind me. 

"Stop it!" 04 commanded through the com. "02, back off now. 03, get 01 out of there. Enemy reinforcements ETA minus 4 minutes."

Heavyarms appeared in my sight, and offered a hand up. Brushing him aside, I commanded Wing into a launch from the ground, and shot into the air. Shame flooded through me; I nearly let my personal feelings interfere with the mission. Transforming into flight mode, I flew from the area, trusting the remaining pilots to complete the mission.

I switched off all links, not wanting to communicate with anyone. Hearing the heavy boom and feeling the shock wave slam into Wing's underside, even as high as I was flying, I knew our objective had been achieved. Tuning all else out, I plotted a distant coordinate into Wing's autopilot, and let it take over. My hand shook as I dug the small bottle of aspirin out of my pocket. I closed my eyes while crunching down on the bitter tablets; they dissolved on my tongue, and began to ease the pain lodged in my stomach.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Fighting with Maxwell was the last thing I had wanted to do. I let my emotions take control, and in the middle of a mission no less. Focusing inward, I ran through my recent actions to determine what I could do in the future to prevent the loss of control again. 

A flare of pain flashed, and spots danced before my eyes. If this pain didn't stop, I would lose more than my control. With a cry, I convulsed in my chair and only its restraints kept me from falling to the floor. My head lulled to the side, and my breath came in ragged gasps. The pain was eating through me, sending waves of it along each nerve line, burning fire throughout my body. 

Clutching my middle, I keyed one-handed the command sequence to halt Wing. I needed to find a place to wait this ride out; I could not trust myself in this condition to pilot my Gundam. Accessing local area maps, I determined a likely spot not too far from where we were. I maneuvered Wing through the trees, and came to rest under a mountainous overhang. It was night, and hidden deep in the shadows of the mountain, with no moon out, an OZ soldier would have to be pretty damn lucky to stumble upon us. 

Wing now safe and shut down, I released my harness, and fell to the cockpit floor. Still holding my abdomen as if that would help keep the pain at bay, I crawled across metal plating. Pain tightened its hold, and I fell flat, rolling onto my back, shouting in the grip of its intensity. Nausea, hot and acrid, rose in my throat, and I turned my head, retching. 

Feeling as though nothing were left to vomit, I rose to my knees and continued to crawl to my bag strapped in its place near the door. Fear spiked seeing how weak I'd become in such a short time. My hand shook badly, almost to the point I couldn't work the zipper. Items tumbled from the bag, and I let them fall, intent only on seeking relief. Finding the first aid kit at last, I fumbled with the latch, nearly spilling its contents to the floor as well. A shot of morphine would kill the pain; I didn't plan to use the whole dose, just enough to take the edge off and allow my body to function without fighting itself.

As the static needle poked its way through my epidermis, I could feel the tiny tendrils of relief already soothing my overtaxed nerves. My breathing slowed to a more normal rate, and the claws stopped its raking, wanting to break free. My head swam a little, and I cursed silently, believing I'd allowed too much of the painkiller to enter my body. The edges of my vision swirled in gray, and slowly faded to black. I slept.

I jerked awake, cold and shivering on the metal floor of Wing's cockpit. Confusion hung heavy for a moment; spotting the empty e-med syringe, and the spilled contents of my bag, memory crashed back to me. Hurriedly, I checked my watch. Letting out a sigh of relief, I still had time to make it to the RV. I'd be late, but not so late the other pilots would send out a search party for Wing. 

Picking up my clothing and equipment, I spotted my sweater and held it in my hands for a moment. I would have to apologize to Duo; he hadn't deserved my anger, and fighting with him was pure stupidity. A finger traced over one of the doves, and for a moment I almost saw the longhaired boy sitting in front of me, grinning that idiotic grin of his. An innocuous thought crossed my mind, and I paused in pulling the sweater over my head; I hoped the doves meant peace. 

As though it had never existed, the pain had faded, leaving me able to clean the mess I'd made in the cockpit, and climb back into the command chair. Taking a deep breath, I keyed the start up sequence to Wing's ignition, and waited while the engines hummed to life. My training took over, and I reviewed the monitor recordings of our immediate area. Nothing and no one had come near. I took a read out of satellite surveillance, and discovered there didn't seem to be any activity in Wing's surroundings; though just to the south appeared to be teeming with vehicles and MS's. 

Almost ready for flight, I did one last necessary procedure. The switch flipped, I stated in a flat emotionless voice, "Base, 01," and waited for the expected reply.

"Base, check," Winner's voice responded instantly. He must have been waiting by the com link.

"01 ETA to 13, 0100."

"Acknowledged 01," I heard the hesitation and knew he would ask. "Are you all right, Heero?" his voice was soft. He must be worried; Winner never broke radio protocol.

I sighed. I would have to make apologies to more than just Duo. "Yes, I am fine."

"Good. We're all worried about you, and Duo's…" 

Scuffling noises sounded through the link, and suddenly 02's voice came through, "You'd better get your ass back here right now, Yuy. No, scratch that. You'd better find a good place to hide 'cause I'm going to kick your ass all over the fuckin' place! What the hell did you think you were doing? Where the hell have you been, asshole?" I heard a loud yelp, a thump and a door slamming. 

Winner's voice came back on, sounding breathless. "Sorry 'bout that. Duo's been rather upset since we arrived at the RV, and you weren't here. He wanted to go search for you immediately." Pounding in the background could be heard, and I almost grinned, envisioning his antics.

"04, 01 will be at 13 in 45 minutes. I will debrief at that time. Until then, I suggest radio silence." I paused before adding, "And, please, don't let Maxwell near the com. I-" Swallowing hard, I continued, "I don't think I could listen to him at this moment."

"Acknowledged, 01." I envisioned Winner nodding his head, grinning at the implied whine in my request.

Cutting the open channel to the receive position, I worked the sequence code into Wing's navigational system, and braced for lift off. I kept command of the flight, but allowed Wing's system to do the actual flying. As the dark landscape below me flowed by in shadows, I kept my mind focused; watching the minute reports as they flashed across the screen. 

I arrived at the safe house a lot sooner than I thought I would. Set on the outskirts of a small mining town, the Gundams were safely hidden in an abandoned iron works building. We were to use the old foreman's house to bunk down in for a few days before separating. It had been deemed we needed to stay out of sight and out of action for a few weeks; our activities had been many in the past couple of months, and OZ was more alerted to our presence than we'd like. After the furor died down, the team would split into two or three groups, each group heading in a different direction to hide out and wait for the next mission. I planned to be on my own during the next downtime period. 

Barton met me after I descended from Wing to quietly explain the parameter defenses and to tell me where the proximity alarms were set. I absorbed the information while finishing up the shut down procedures ingrained in me, making sure Wing was secured before seeking my own rest. 03's pilot grabbed my arm before I left the building. Surprised, I glared at him.

Dropping my arm, he stated in a flat voice, "I know you had a good reason to do what you did, and I will not say anything against it." He looked away for a moment before turning back to face me. His lips set into a tight line as he said with more venom than I'd ever heard from the quiet mercenary, "However, if you ever again disrupt a mission, and threaten another pilot's life like you did tonight, I will kill you." 

We stared at one another for a brief minute. I sighed and looked away. "If I pull another stunt like that again, I hope you do kill me." Barton grunted but did not speak. I left him standing in the middle of the empty factory, still smelling faintly of the raw ore and acids used to extract the alloy.

The short walk to the house did nothing to bring clarity to my thoughts; I had no idea what I would say to the others or how I would apologize to 02 for attacking him. I entered the house through the front door and came face to face with the very pissed off American pilot. Seeing the anger in his eyes, I nearly turned back the way I'd come. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and took a step forward, only to be punched in the middle.

Not expecting such an action, I bent double, the breath knocked from my lungs. Though my ears were pounding with the blood rushing through them, I still could hear Maxwell yelling at me, none of it making sense, and only seemed to be a jumble of noise.

"Duo," I gasped, I straightening up and reaching for his arm. I had to stop his torrent of abuse.

He jerked away from my hand and slammed his own against my shoulder. "God damn, fuckin' idiot!" he was shouting. "What the hell did you think you were doing? I can't believe you'd just destroy yourself like that!" His other hand fisted and hit my chest. Keeping my eyes on his face, I knew this was the only way he could release the emotions he harbored. His hits were hard, but not the full strength I knew he had; he wanted to hurt me, not injure. 

"Did you think no one would care, huh? What do you know? We all care, you asshole. But that's just like you, isn't it? Thinking only of yourself and not of anyone else." As each line was delivered, a punch landed on my chest, shoulders or arms. "What about me? Did you think about me at all in your oh-so-terrific plan? What do you think I would have done, knowing my failure caused you to fucking self-detonate?" 

His voice had changed to a degree, and I stared hard at him. He ducked his head, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. But his hands grabbed my shoulders, and he started to shake me. "You're such a fuckin' idiot, Yuy. Why do you want to die so badly?" The last came out in a whisper as I finally had enough and wrapped my arms around his body, locking his to his side, and pulled him close. His face pressed against my sweatered shoulder, and, a touch awed, I could feel his warm tears soak through the material. Duo was crying, for me.

I could see Winner and Chang hanging back, one at a door to what I assumed would be the communications room and the other standing by a rickety old chair. Giving a slight nod, I turned away ignoring them, and spoke only to the boy I held. "I'm sorry, Duo. I-I didn't … I shouldn't have…" I still wasn't sure what to say to him. Of all the pilots, he was the one I felt the closest to, and our friendship was dubious at best. I trusted him with my life, as Wing's back up, and to complete his mission with the utmost of his abilities. But I could not find it in myself to be able to tell him what was on my mind. 

He sniffed, and pulled back a little. His face was blotchy, but calm, and after a quick glance at me, he averted his gaze, a faint tint coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, you shouldn't have." He grinned suddenly, and shoved on my shoulder, almost tenderly this time. "For the Perfect Soldier, you sure fuckin' suck at self destruction."

Shaking my head, I could only give him an answering grin. He turned, and we both walked from the entryway together. I still had to debrief Winner, and fatigue, laced with the lingering dregs of the morphine shot, weighed heavily. It must have been apparent, for our tactical leader dismissed me almost as soon as I started to speak. 

With an airy wave, he commanded, "Get some sleep, Heero. You'll have to do plenty of talking tomorrow, and nothing is so important it can't wait until then." 

Maxwell nodded at my side, and, grabbing my duffel, headed down the hall. "Come on, buddy. I made your bed, and guess what?" He tossed a grin over his shoulder. "You lucky, son of a bitch, you're bunking with me!" He opened a door and waved me inside. "Listen, you get settled. I'm going to grab a shower before Barton comes in from parameter check." Turning away, he hesitated and, without looking back, he asked, "Could we talk? When I get out, I mean?"

Narrowing my eyes, I stared at his back. I thought I knew what his "talk" would entail, and it was the last thing I wanted. But, believing I owed him at least an ear, I grunted. "Hn."

His shoulders lost some of the tension I'd seen in them as he quipped, "Be right back then." He was gone, and I heard another door open and close down the hall. 

Running water sounded as I did a quick equipment check and unpacked a few items I knew I'd need for the night. I drew off the sweater, and replaced it in my bag. My Glock went under my pillow; my laptop on the nightstand next to my bed. Its message light blinked, and quickly scanning the inbox, I deleted the three from Maxwell, skimmed the contents of the next one from Doctor J letting me know the success our mission had been, and put the computer in alert mode. 

Though I would have liked a shower as well, I knew I wouldn't be able to last long enough to take one and listen to whatever the idiot would have to say. I reluctantly settled for changing clothes, and pulled on a pair of sweat pants, leaving the drawstring loose. Ever since that punch, my stomach had started its little dance, and the tentacles of pain made themselves known. As a precaution, I chewed on a few more aspirin and washed them down with the rest of the water in my ration bottle. 

The water shut off, and the longhaired pilot appeared at our door a short time later. His hair wrapped up in a towel, I could see his gold cross gleaming brightly on his bare chest; he wore only a pair of shorts with his dirty clothes clutched in one hand. "Woot!" he exclaimed while tossing his clothes to the floor before clambering onto his bed. "Don't stay in the shower too long," he said, grinning at me. "The water turns awful cold, pretty fast!" The towel now draped around his shoulders, he shook out his hair before grabbing his brush.

Strangely, watching Duo in his nearly nightly ritual added a level of normalcy to my life that had never been there before. I don't let him see that I watch, though. I can't imagine what I would say, how I could explain my fascination with his hair if I was ever caught. I pretended to type out a report onto my laptop, waiting for him to speak; my eyes focused more on his actions than the screen in front of me.

His hands fairly flew through the brushing of that long tangled mess, and his fingers followed suit in weaving the braid so much a part of him. He yawned, suddenly, and shook his head. "You know, Yuy, how 'bout we put off our little discussion 'til morning. I need some shut-eye." 

I looked directly at him over my laptop's monitor. His eyes drooped even as he tied off his braid. "Hn," I grunted, not offering more than what he was used to. He flashed me a lopsided grin before bending over to pull out a T-shirt from his bag under the bed. I quickly shut down my computer by putting it back in alert mode, and made ready for bed myself. "Good night, Maxwell," I said softly, turning my back to him.

The gentle rustle of his shirt sliding over his head sounded, and he sighed loudly. I almost rolled over to find out why, but didn't want to encourage his little discussion -- not tonight. I only wanted sleep. Darkness followed a loud click, and I heard Maxwell settle under his covers.

As much as I wanted to, sleep eluded me. Thoughts of tonight's mission kept running through my mind, and the words of an uncharacteristically pissed off God of Death haunted me. What did he mean by them? Did he mean anything? I had to admit he did take on an almost excessive amount of guilt for the deaths of those in his life. If I had self-detonated, I wouldn't doubt he would have slung that burden of guilt over his shoulder, adding its weight to the others.

"You sleeping, buddy?"

Speak of the devil. "No," I answered quietly.

There was a rustle, a quiet step, and my bed creaked and shifted under his weight. He climbed over my knees and sat against the wall, his legs drawn up to his chest. "I can't sleep," he said in a low voice.

Sitting up, I looked at him, waiting for more to come, and resigned myself to remaining awake. Not that I had been sleeping anyway, but at least it had been quiet.

Almost as if he were struggling internally, he finally brought out a shiny plastic bag. "You did give these to me, didn't you?" he asked.

This was so not what I'd thought he'd say or ask. I nodded, looking at the bag. "Yes."

"Why?"

Though he kept his voice low, trying not to disturb any of the others who would be asleep close by, I could hear the command to answer in it. "Because." I paused, unsure on how to proceed. "I- I… it seemed like a good idea at the time," I finished lamely.

"Was it because of that mission on L3?" His question hung between us for a breath or two.

I gave a short nod without speaking.

Sighing, he laid his head down on his knees, facing me. "I thought so." He began to blink rapidly, and jerking his head up, he looked away. "You asshole. You expected to die last night didn't you?" His voice though low, was rough.

Shifting uncomfortably, I nodded again. 

"Why, Heero? Why do you keep expecting…" he shook his head, "…no, _wanting_ to die?" He was watching me now, his eyes bright in the darkness.

My gaze moved from his face to the bag he held in his hand. I took it from him, and opening it, I held up a cookie. Too dark to really see its shape, I guessed by the feel of it to be a camel. "I don't want to," I answered no louder than a whispered breath. He took the cookie from my hand, and I watched as he bit down on it making a soft crunching noise in the still room. Taking another cookie from the bag, I could make out that it was white, and other than it being smaller than the previous one, I couldn't tell what it was. My teeth sank into the iced animal cracker and I was instantly transported back three months…

Our mission had been to infiltrate the command post OZ had set up on L3. The resistances against OZ's command continued and a call for help placed. Doctor J sent the message to my laptop, insisting 02 assisted in this mission. We flew out in a courier shuttle with faked papers and credentials, and left it in an out of the way hanger a sweeper friend of Maxwell's knew about. The price to hide our presence had been high, but not too excessive given the nature of our need. 

Gaining access to the command post was much easier than expected causing us to worry more than relax; a quick, whispered discussion and we changed the plan. Maxwell flitted his way deep into the bowels of the weapons room, leaving the rows of computer banks and mainframes to me. 

The computer room was nearly empty, only three techs had been plunking away at their keyboards. Too many to eliminate without one of them able to raise the alarm, but not too many to keep me from accomplishing my mission. No one took note of my movements as I crept along the cooling floor of the mainframe room, looking for an access panel to tap into. Spotting what I needed, I pulled a remote terminal port into an empty cupboard, and, closing the doors, I plugged it into my laptop.

Cracking the security access system wasn't as easy as I had originally thought it would be. After nearly a half an hour's work, I was in, and pulling up the mainframe's program library. Scanning through the list of files, I selected several I'd heard J express interest in, and copied them down to my laptop's hard drive. In edit mode, I pulled down another set of files, and slipped in my own version of command parameters in each. It was fail-safe; looking much like a normal com, alarm and security breach program, it sat dormant until specific triggers keyed it into action. I coded the bug to fit inside most programs after one too many times of a routine systems check found I'd disabled the OZ alarm and communication programs at the facility I was infiltrating.

I pulled the small com link from my pack, and tapped the agreed upon signal. Not waiting for a response, I began the disruption plan, and went back to the mainframe's library once again. The Colony's life support and environmental programs held additional protections, but after some fancy keying, I was able to gain entry to the file I sought. 

Areas within the colony were being held hostage for their resistance to the participation and acceptance of OZ's rule. OZ had been using the environmental controls by weakening the air supply, adding more heat, and less rain to the holdout sections of the colony. The Resistance had contacted Doctor H to assist, and he in turn had asked Doctors J and G for their help. They sent us, Maxwell and I.

Several minutes passed as I scanned seemingly endless lines of code, looking for those particular sections I needed to concentrate on. The idea was to hide code with code, making OZ believe their program was working, while in fact a hidden set of commands would negate the program running. I paused in my work, and wiped my brow; it was getting cramped and hot in the cupboard despite the cooling floors underneath the cabinet. One last program change and I'd be done. I could send 02 the next set of signals, and work my way out of the complex to meet him at the prearranged spot several blocks away.

The VSAM file I wanted was currently in use. I risked peeking out the cupboard door to check on the techs, and wondered how to take control of that program. The clicking from their keyboards could still be heard over the low hum of the system boxes housed on the floor. While normally VSAM files were usually down for maintenance for very short periods of time, I didn't have a lot of it left, and didn't want to waste a minute more if I could help it. If Maxwell had been doing what he was supposed to be doing, I had less than an hour to finish up and get out. Pulling down a copy of the VSAM's program, I found an input source file that would work for my purpose. A small grin twitched at my lips as I wiped my brow again and went to work.

I'd finished bypassing the production implementation procedures inherent in most mainframe systems by installing the new program in an emer package – overriding its older version. Checking my watch, I realized I had time to send Doctor J the copied files, and logged into the systems com program. The files had taken less than five minutes to transmit, and I was in the middle of backing out of the mainframe when one of the techs noticed an oddity.

Cracking the door open a slit, I watched the tech stand, and begin speaking loudly while gesturing at the large monitors hanging on the wall. 

"My program crashed. Systems check shows no abnormalities save this one source file." He pointed to a flashing green line on the middle monitor screen. "Which one of you changed the source?" The two others shook their heads, and it seemed to dawn on all at the same time. 

Screens flashed and sped up on the high monitors as I watched the techs hunting through the program files trying to find where and who had made the alterations. As in the environment program, a little hidden code went into the changes, and it could take them hours to find it, if they ever did. I planned on being well on my way back to Earth before they discovered exactly what I'd done, and how to reverse it. 

One of the techs grunted and shouted, "It was accessed from this room just a few minutes ago!" 

My eyes widened, and I mentally reviewed the process I'd used to modify the program. Closing my eyes, I resisted the urge to punch the wall; I'd forgotten to wipe out my traces. The program would still run; it had been found quicker than I wanted it to be found. I tapped out the execute and evac command to Maxwell, and shut down my laptop, disconnecting the remote port access link. Peering out the cracked-open door, I spotted one of the techs on a com link –- trouble was about to commence.

"Yes, sir. We will begin the search, sir," I could heard one side of the conversation. Disconnecting the com, the tech said, "Martin, the general says to run routine scans on all main programs, and find out what the changes were made to HANSPIA program. Nelson and I are to search each remote site for recent activity." After pointing a path direction to the tech standing, he added, "The general's sending guards down to check for any security breaches."

The techs split up then, one going to the far side of the room, and the other one row over from my aisle. He would find the terminal I used if I didn't act immediately. The three techs were civilians, colony civilians, and my directive stated to kill civilians only in the direst of circumstances. Easing out of the cupboard and replacing the terminal wasn't too hard. But now that the three had been alerted to an unknown presence, I would have to wait for Maxwell's distraction, playing hide and seek with them before taking action.

Keeping a low profile, I listened carefully to where both the wandering techs stopped before moving. The third tech seemed entirely focused on his job of running diagnostic checks and scans to pay attention to anything else in the room. I could hear the tech named Nelson approaching my aisle, and looked around quickly for an escape. Looking up, I nearly grinned -– Duo would be surprised, I think. Technology had come a long ways in the past couple of centuries, but the kind of power and storage needed to run a colony required massive equipment, and the room was filled from near floor to ceiling with mainframe boxes. There were breaks every third box or so, for terminal ports and monitoring equipment. But for the most part, you could not see one end of the room to the other because of the mainframes. 

I hurriedly climbed on top of the remote counter, and used the monitoring equipment to give me the extra height needed. Quietly, I slid my pack on top of the mainframe, and using my arm strength, I pulled myself up. From this vantage point, I was able to watch the techs, stay out of their sight, and make my way towards the door. My progress was slow; the metal casing of each system box picked up and projected sound, hampering my movement. 

When I had passed beyond the second tech, leaving the two behind me in one of the middle aisles, I dropped soundlessly to the floor. Picking up my pace, I hurried to the door, and felt myself being tossed as the computer room's floor buckled. I landed hard on my back, hitting my head against one metal corner. Ignoring the pain, and shaking my head to clear it, I was instantly on my feet, charging for the door. Maxwell's mission had just completed, and I was behind schedule. 

The first set of doors, I cleared, and sprinted down the hallway. Ahead, I could see the double doors leading to the main room of the sublevel. I'd have to take the stairs up four flights to the ground level, and hoped the explosion hadn't caused structure damage. My weapon already in hand, I pushed my way into the main room, scanning as I ran. Only one guard seemed to be present, and giving a shout, he pulled up his weapon. I fired a single shot, not stopping as I went. I knew my communication and alarm program would be running –- it had to have been triggered by now. My presence would still be unknown to the upper levels; I still had a chance to make it out without discovery.

I ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Running into a pair of civilians, admins by their look, I silenced them with a couple of quick punches. At the main level, I paused for a breath, and peered through the glazed window. The place was crawling with soldiers. 

Wanting to curse, even under my breath, I fell back to take stock of the situation. I couldn't walk through that many soldiers believing I could make it out alive and not be captured. Hastily made plans were considered and discarded as I calculated my chances at making through the main lobby. I needed a distraction, and with that, my thoughts turned to Pilot 02. Frowning, I wondered where the braided idiot was at that moment. Most likely at the RV like he should be, waiting the requisite hour before evacuating. 

A face appeared suddenly in the window, and my weapon was pointed at it before I realized just who I was seeing -- Maxwell. He grinned and winked before turning, showing me the back of his head. Creeping closer, I could barely make out the words being spoken from the other side.

"Sergeant Haase, take your squad of cadets and sweep levels two through five. Sergeant Cooper, take your cadets and cover the lower four floors. Wilson, Jenison and Daniels, you three come with me. I want this level searched inch by inch. The rest of you soldiers stand guard here. Nothing, and I mean nothing, gets out of this facility without my say so. Got that?" A chorus of "Yes sir!" followed.

There appeared to be a fumbling at the door, and as it opened, I allowed it to push me back against the wall. A tall, muscular man held it wide, standing in front of the window, and I noticed black uniforms at attention next to him, effectively blocking any sight of me from the doorway and stairs leading downward. I heard booted steps leading away, and the door was shut suddenly. 

I found myself staring at Maxwell, dressed as a colony cadet in black fatigues and cap, his hair hidden from sight. He flashed a grin I knew well, and slammed his fist into the back of one of the cadet's neck, effectively silencing him. The other cadets cringed slightly, but said nothing before turning to take the stairs upward.

"Quick. We have a little time, but we need to hurry. Head for the fifth floor. There is rappelling equipment up there, and you should be able to make your escape from the roof," the large man I took to be Sergeant Haase whispered, keeping an eye on both the window and the stairs. He scooped up the fallen cadet and slung him over a shoulder as if he weighed near nothing. Without another word, he turned and began to climb the stairs.

Cocking a brow at Maxwell, I left the question unasked. He gave me a slug to the arm, and whispered quietly while following the big man, "He's on our side. One of the Resistance guys." I nodded without saying anything, and ran up the stairs after both of them.

As we climbed, I noted a cadet was stationed at each level's entry door. None looked at me as we passed; an oddity I filed away. Once on the fifth floor, I noticed none of the other cadets were present save the one the sergeant was lowering to the floor. "He is good lad. I hope this does not cause him trouble." Letting out a sigh unexpectedly gentle for such a bear of a person before turning away, he frowned and gestured for us to follow him again. 

We climbed yet another flight of stairs, ending on the rooftop. The sergeant pulled us both to the side of the building, the wind blowing strongly as high up as we were. Pointing to the far side of the roof, he shouted above the wind, "The equipment is there. Make your way down to the lowest levels, down to the sub-streets before you find your way back to the transport station." 

Maxwell had already started across, but I hesitated. Grabbing the man's sleeve, I pulled him close to ask, "Why?" I didn't trust in the kindness of strangers.

His dark eyes deepened and his face lost its solid strength. "For my beautiful Emperia and my sweet Sorsha." His jaw clenched tightly and his hands fisted. "OZ has got to go. Their tyranny has got to be stopped." Shaking himself, he looked intently at me. "You and the other pilot there, you both will avenge my family for me."

My brows darkened as my eyes swept up and down his uniform. You didn't become his rank overnight. "You are an OZ sergeant."

He nodded sharply and spit derisively to the side. "That is true, for the shame I will carry for the rest of my life. I joined years ago when the thought of war was rumor, and my belief in OZ strong. I did not want the war, did not believe the colonists should separate from Earth, or disagree with OZ's rule." A muscle in one of his cheeks twitched as he seemed to fight an inner demon. When he continued, he was no longer looking at me, but somewhere off over my right shoulder. "My home was in sector 73. It was used as an example for what would happen to those who disagreed, who rebelled against OZ's rule." Again his cheek muscle twitched. His voice became soft, almost inaudible over the wind. "I was away fighting on Earth when it happened. My wife, my daughter … my baby girl were killed when the life support for that sector was shut off." 

I nodded, instantly understanding his support. "And the other cadets?" 

Blinking, his eyes snapped sharply into a focused gaze. He glared at me and ground out roughly, "They are loyalist, Resistance fighters one and all, even Weber, the one who was hit. None will tell of your escape at our hands. All have lost family, and homes to OZ's rule."

Again, I nodded. Extending my hand, I shook his briefly. It was never a custom of mine to shake hands, having only shook the hand of one other man before in my life –- Zechs Marquis. I would likely never see this man again, and if things happened the way they normally did with OZ in the mix, this man, and his squad of cadets, would not last long. 

"I will do my best to avenge your family, Sergeant," I vowed to him solemnly.

He nodded, and releasing my hand, he shoved me towards the other side of the building. Making my way there, I found Maxwell had already anchored the lines, and fastened a rappelling harness around his body. He grinned, and tossed me the other harness before leaning over the side of the building to judge the distance.

It didn't take me long to fasten the buckles, and loop my line through the locks and pulleys. At the edge of the building, looking down five ground level, and twenty sub levels, the street below could not be seen. A haze of some sort floated far below, preventing further sight.

02 struck my shoulder teasingly, and shouted, "Lets go! Last one down is a rotten egg!" and jumped.

Giving a grunt, I followed. 

Rock climbing, rappelling, and hazardous terrain navigation had all been part of my training, but descending down that building with Duo was the first time I thought of it as -- fun. We leap-frogged each other, first one then the other, the longhaired pilot laughed the whole time. He made a point of "tagging" me as he passed, and as usual, he ignored my scowls in coming too close for safety.

We were about fifteen levels down when it happened. Maxwell has been in mid-leap when I heard the glass breaking, and I swung hard to the left, crashing into him as the first round of gunshots were fired. Disregarding his shout of alarm, my hand covered his over the braking lever, and squeezed, triggering mine at the same time. Our descent was fast; the wind howled in our ears, rushing through our clothing and hair as the windows flew passed.

Suddenly, the rope in my hands went slack -– someone had succeeded in severing it. Releasing Maxwell's line as I started to fall, I felt him grab for me, his hand slipping down my arm, and paused in a brief grasp of my fingers before they too slipped. Funny, I hadn't realized I'd been shot; the blood coated my arm already. 

The fall was quick, but I had time to remove most of the harness before I landed. Or I should say, bounced. 

In the lower levels, the government building became a housing project, and one tenant had constructed a canvas patio off a bedroom window. This contraption had originally broke my fall; it held for a moment, resisting the impact before the worn fabric gave way, and I crashed down below. I landed hard in the refuse that had been collecting in the alleyway below, and one slim, spiky pole now protruded through my thigh. My fall through the awning had pulled large chunks of loose concrete out of the window casing, and these rained down on me, pelting my chest and stomach. 

I lay amidst the garbage and stinking waste, faintly wondering if I was alive. 

"Heero!" I heard Maxwell calling from somewhere above. 

Stifling a groan, I sat up and hissed in pain. One of the larger pieces of concrete had landed on my ribs, causing an unknown injury. I quickly examined my leg, and determined no bones had been broken. Luckily, the pipe had been thin as well as short. Grasping the few inches sticking out of my leg, I pulled upwards, and gasped. My eyes closed tightly, shutting out the sudden pain lancing through me. 

A hand grabbed my foot, and my eyes flew open. Maxwell had climbed partway up the pile, concern plainly written on his face. "You okay?" he asked gruffly.

My leg bled, but I could tell it would stop as soon as it could be bandaged; a flesh wound, albeit an untimely one, but it wouldn't cause lasting damage. My arm continued to bleed freely, and from the sharp pain it gave off, I could tell that the bullet had nicked bone. More damaging, but better than it could have been. Taking a deep breath and gently expanding my chest, I analyzed the internal injuries: at least two cracked ribs, and deep subcutaneous bruising.

I gave a short nod, and pushed myself off the pile towards the edge. He backed away to give me room, and as my feet touched the ground, he caught my arm, my leg had given way. Frowning at him, I pulled away, and looked around us, trying to assess the situation.

"They'll be down to this level soon," I said. I glanced at him before turning up the alleyway. "Any ideas on how to get out of here?"

"Yeah," he was said, pulling a med kit from his pack. "Let's get those wounds taken care of first. Then we'll get the hell out of here." He quickly wrapped bandages around my arm and leg, tying them off. 

Giving him a grunt of approval, it dawned on me how many times one or the other of us had to perform this same duty. I waved up the alley and waited for him to express his idea.

He frowned at me, putting the kit away. "We have to get out of this alley, first. If this is anything like L2's sub-level streets, we'll need to head east, but we should take the back ways. Too many eyes will be watching the main thoroughfares." He knelt and using a discarded bit of wood, he drew a rough map. "As close as I figure, we're about here, sublevel 22. We need to make it here, sector 14, level 10." 

The distance between the two Xs seemed minute looking at them in the dirt, but I knew we had a trek in front of us. Maxwell had been drawing gridlines, and he pointed out the levels as he spoke, his tone surprisingly upbeat. "Being as we have to stay away from the access elevators, and are stuck using alleys, it should only take us five or six hours to get there." 

He'd stopped talking and looked at me; I could only guess he was determining my condition. He frowned, and pulled off the black fatigue shirt. "We're going to have to find you something else to wear. Not only are you covered in blood, but you stink." I looked at the shirt in his hands, and raised a brow when he tossed it into the refuse pile beside us. He pulled out his pocketknife, and cut the short sleeves from the black Tee he wore. Catching my look, he grinned. "You will look odd on the streets, but a little blood, and smelly people are normal for the subs. A cadet uniform would stand out and cause trouble." He proceeded to hack and slash his shirt and pants, distressing them into looking much older and worn than they actually were.

I looked up the building, wondering when OZ would show, and why my companion thought he had all the time in the world to play around with his clothing. Snorting in impatience, I started limping up the alleyway, casting back over my shoulder, "Get moving, Maxwell. Your preparations will mean nothing if OZ reaches this level before you're done."

His laughter drowned out the sounds of his boots on the concrete as he ran. Catching up, he wiggled his eyebrows at me and grinned. "You slay me, Yuy. You know that?" At my grunt, he laughed again.

Our run through the alleys and back ways of the sublevels on L3 took on nightmarish proportions. Taking the lead, Maxwell would sprint the length of an alley only to stop suddenly and peer around each corner. I kept up, barely, and at each stop, my breathing was raspy and ragged. My head swam before long, my leg began to bleed again, and each intake of air felt as though a knife was being inserted into my chest.

In the middle of an alley, on what level I couldn't be sure, I stumbled and fell, landing hard on my palms and knees. The shock ran through me, forcing a short cry from my mouth. 

"God, Yuy!" Maxwell's voice sounded muddled, like it came from a distance. "Why the hell didn't you say something?" I looked up, and he knelt at my side, his face scrunched up with worry. 

Trying to focus on his features, I blinked, but two and three heads still appeared. I closed my eyes, gasping. "Too many of you."

"What?" he asked, his hands on my arms helping me to sit up.

I opened my eyes and tried to focus on him again. The alley, everything in it, and the multiple Duos began to spin. Nausea blossomed and pushed itself out and up. Turning quickly, I vomited.

His hands were on me, touching me everywhere; searching for what, I didn't care. I could hear him muttering under his breath, but couldn't make out the words. Leaving my eyes closed, trying to ease the spinning, I pressed a hand to my ribs; the retching had hurt them, and caused further injury. I needed rest, and time to heal before we could move out.

"Fuck!" Maxwell exclaimed. I gasped aloud, and clamped a hand to his arm. His seeking fingers had found a spot on the back of my head, reminding me of a pain forgotten until then. "You've got a frickin' scalp laceration, buddy. When the hell'd you get this?"

Staring at his face, I tried to remember where I had hit my head. I grunted. "Computer room. Explosion," I managed.

He narrowed his eyes. "You mean to tell me, you've been running all over the fuckin' place with a head trauma?" I didn't bother to nod. He growled, and I mean, he actually growled as if he were an animal. When he slipped his hands and arms around me, they were strong and gentle, helping me to stand. He drew my good arm over his shoulder, and wrapped his other around my waist, careful not to squeeze my ribs. "Come on. Let's find you a place to rest, and see what we can do."

I don't know how he did it; in fact, I don't remember much about the next few minutes. But whatever he did, Maxwell had found a neglected alley with the perfect hiding spot. A large, wooden crate lay hidden behind mounds of garbage and piles of broken furniture, appliances and unwanted items. It appeared someone had used it at one time, but nothing indicated it had been occupied recently.

It wasn't until he'd lowered me down that I realized he'd been carrying my pack as well as his. Funny, I didn't remember removing it. I tried to focus on him, he was talking, but the words made no sense. My eyes slid shut and I let my mind wander. A sharp stinging sensation on my cheek roused me. Looking up at the normally genial boy, I worked my mouth to ask why, but couldn't seem to do so.

"Don't sleep, Yuy. You can't right now," he'd said by way of an answer, worry etched in every line. "You've given yourself a classic case of concussion, buddy. So, I need you to stay with me, k?" He held my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.

Licking my lips, I tried to speak again, "…afrmmed." My eyes drifted closed, and I snapped them open again.

He gave me a lopsided grin as he nodded. "Alright. First things first. I need to change your bandages cause it looks like they've all had it. Then I need to see if the hole in your head needs stitches." He cocked a brow at me. "I hope you don't mind a slipknot –- it's the only kind I know." I gave him a feeble scowl in response.

His hands worked over my wounds carefully, but it still took all my concentration to keep from making a sound, or at least hitting him in retaliation. As he worked, Duo hummed softly, almost sub-vocally. It was soothing, and if not for the jarring jabs of pain, I would have drifted off under its influence. 

"You ever wonder what it'd be like to be a cat?" he asked quietly. I stared at his lowered head, wondering if he'd lost whatever senses that he might have had. "I think I'd like to be a cat. Sleek and agile, able to jump and run. Nature's stealthiest hunters." He flashed me a grin, and I was sure he had lost it. "A free-roaming housecat, having someplace to return to after I'd go out hunting, ya'know?" His eyes never left mine as he spoke, and it became clear to me he'd been trying to engage my thoughts, keep me from sleeping.

I grunted. "Cats can be nasty. They scratch and bite, even when you're being nice." 

Another grin. "So do humans." He poked my uninjured shoulder for emphasis. "Take you, for example." I scowled at him. "No, I mean it. No matter how friendly I am to you, you're always growling at me." He twisted his lips, scrunching his face on one side. "Well, you're not as bad as Wu Fei. He has got some major issues, Chang does." Touching my forehead with a finger, he stated, "You, on the other hand, are just stubborn and don't know how or when to accept friendship." 

Not knowing how to respond, I remained silent and turned away. He'd finished rewrapping my injuries and binding my ribs. After determining the cut on my head most likely didn't need stitches, he patched it up as well. 

Moving back away from me, he settled his back against one of the side walls before commenting, "I'll have to get more bandages when I go out. I had to use all of my supplies, and most of yours." 

"You're leaving?" 

He nodded. "I want to do a little re-con, find out what OZ is up to, and determine exactly where we are."

I grunted and tried not to think of sleep. I don't think I'd ever felt so tired and worn. Not even during my training did I feel this rough. Spots danced before my eyes, and I shook my head trying to keep my awareness up. "Talk to me," I asked quietly.

Startled, he glanced my way. "Uh, sure buddy. What would you like to talk about?"

My eyes closed, and I forced them open, finding a point somewhere to the right of his face to focus on. "Anything. Just keep me awake."

His head nodded slowly. Licking his lips, he started speaking about some story he'd read. Something to do with ancient legends and mystical beings. I wasn't really listening to the words; I watched the way the muscles in his face changed as it came to life. Engaged in his story, his hands joined in the narration as he unconsciously accented his words with subtle gestures, sizes, and impact. 

The pain in my chest tightened, and I shifted, looking for some relief. I lowered myself into a prone position, but was unable to rest my head on the crate's floor with the cut there. Lying on my side was impossible with the rib injuries and bruising. Sighing resignedly, I returned to my upright position. 

Maxwell broke off in his story and scooted closer. "Here," he offered quietly patting his lap. I stared at him suspiciously, and he frowned. "Put your head on my lap, and brace your shoulders with your pack. It will elevate your chest cutting the pain in your ribs and allow you to breathe easier. And I'd have to say, my leg's a lot more comfortable than this floor." 

His logic made sense and I felt the flush of embarrassment in my face for my doubt. He ignored my mumbled apology, and helped me lay in as comfortable a position as I was going to where we were. When I was settled once again, he continued with his story, no longer using his hands.

"…know how to approach is all." The words made their way through the haze surrounding my brain. 

"What?" I think he switched subjects while I wasn't listening.

Looking at me, he grinned. "Cats. You just have to know how to approach 'em, is all." He nodded for effect.

I frowned. "How did we get on this topic?"

"See, some cats are gregarious, friendly as anything, they'll let just about everyone pet them and will climb in any lap available." His eyes took on a strange light. "But some cats are loners, isolationist really. It isn't that they can't be friendly –- they don't trust as readily. You have to approach them slowly, taking your time and showing you don't mean them any harm. It can take quite awhile, but once you gain their trust, they'll be loyal to you for life." 

"You've had a cat before?"

Maxwell blinked and focused his attention down on me. "Uh, no. I've never owned a pet."

He had been rambling like usual, talking about things he knew nothing about. His words, though, struck a chord; they'd touched a nerve I hadn't known existed. I think he'd changed subjects again, but I'd stopped listening. Instead, I worried that nerve, examining it from all angles to determine if it was a weakness. 

"Enough time has passed, I think it would safe if you wanted to sleep." The cadence of his voice had changed, catching my attention.

I shifted my gaze to his face. He'd been looking at me probably noting how I still fought my lids from closing, and tried to stifle the yawns my body insisted on producing. 

"Sleep, Heero. I'll watch your back."

No longer able to remain awake with his reassurances, I gave a short nod, and adjust my position slightly, moving my head a little further on his lap. Allowing my eyes to close, my consciousness slipped away moments later.

A touch on my shoulder and his absolute stillness woke me. My eyes flew open and the first thing I noticed he held his weapon. He signaled to me the presence of four or five others somewhere outside our hideout. When I tried to sit up, his hand on my chest kept me still. With his eyes and a shake of his head, he forced me to stay as I lay. 

Straining my ears, I could barely make out separate sets of voices. Words I could not understand, but by the clipped command tones, I could tell they were issued by someone military. Weariness and frustration could be heard, and I realized it was dark; hours must have passed while I lay sleeping. My eyes flicked to Maxwell's face. In the half-light from a distant street lamp, I could see it was a study of attentiveness; his focus lay entirely on the world outside our crate. 

For what seemed an eternity, the voices and shuffling continued. Eventually, the sounds died, and nothing could be heard. Maxwell eased out from under my head, careful to not jar an injury, and scuttled to the crate's opening on quiet cat-like feet. He paused at the entry; the distant light caught his hair, reflecting its shine as he posed crouching down to present a smaller target, his weapon held in both hands at the ready. In a flash he was gone, and, though I tried, I couldn't hear one sound of his movements to track him.

He appeared a short time later, and returned to where he'd been sitting. "They're gone. I tracked three units on this street checking the alleys. It looks like they're mostly doing a parameter sweep -– not a very thorough one."

I grunted and couldn't help the gasp as he shifted me to lay my head back in his lap. My world swam for a moment, and fighting it down with the iron will of my training, I narrowed my focus to his face above me. "Does it look as though they'll be back?"

Shaking his head, he said grinning, "Go back to sleep. I'll wake you if they show up." Since my lids were trying to close again, I gave into his suggestion.

At one point during the night, I awoke, shaking and shivering. "I'm cold," I announced with some surprise, my teeth actually chattering. The elements hardly ever effected me; I usually dismissed them without thought. I determined it must be the injuries making me feel so weak.

Duo's hands raised me gently, and he shifted his position before pulling my back against his chest, wrapping his arms over my chilled ones. "I should have went out and got those supplies," he murmured. I couldn't answer; already my eyes were closing again, his body's warmth surrounding me.

When I woke in the morning, the braided haired pilot was crouched at the crate's opening. I had slept too soundly not aware of him moving. He turned his head and grinned at me, seeing me awake.

"'bout time. Thought you were going to sleep the day away," he chided. 

I rubbed at my eyes and managed to sit up without causing too much pain. "What time is it?"

He cocked a brow at me, and looked at his watch. "Just about 0600." I flushed and ducked my head. For the moment, I'd forgotten I also wore a watch. "Listen, I'm going to head out, pick up a few things, and check on where the OZ troops are now. Will you all right?"

Warily, I nodded. "We need to move out."

Coming closer, he passed his weapon to me with an extra clip. "Take this, just in case." I started to push it back at him, but he moved away. "Keep it. I'll be out in the open and have a better chance of getting away if they find me. This will at least give you the opportunity to get out in the open." He picked up his nearly empty pack and turned to go. Looking back at me, he added, "If you do have to leave, head south, that way should be easier to run through." He flashed a grin and jogged away. 

While he was gone, I busied myself with small activities, normal and routine. First, I checked his weapon, making sure the rounds were loaded, and ready. Next, I rose to my feet and reassessed my injuries. My legs were stiff, and my wound pulled as I stood. I needed to get my muscles moving, loosening them up and getting them ready for travel. The air still held a nasty chill, and the exercise helped warm me. 

I had taken several laps up and down the length of the alley by the time Maxwell returned. He shook his head, though he grinned. 

"You sure you're human, Yuy?" 

Glaring, I took the bag he held out to me. "What's this?"

Another grin. "Clothes." 

"Hn." I didn't quite trust him, for his eyes held that light I'd seen in them when he'd play a particularly ridiculous prank on Chang. Opening the bag cautiously, I peered inside; it contained clothes. I pulled the sweater out first, a heavy black thing with small dark gray doves. My eye twitched, but I pulled it on, reveling in its warmth. The other item a pair of tattered black pants similar to the cadet fatigues Maxwell wore. These I pulled on over my black shorts, and fastening them, I looked back at Maxwell. 

He was now wearing a black jacket of a lightweight material. Still grinning, he said, "You should have let me change your bandages before getting dressed."

I shook my head. "We need to move out. Having not located us, it won't be long before all outbound shuttle launches will be delayed. I want to be gone before that happens."

His pack was already on his back, and he held out his hand to me. I looked at it blankly for a moment, and remembering, I flushed as I handed over his weapon. He must have noticed sometime the previous day that mine was missing. I'm not sure where or when, whether it was the fall, the landing, or the nightmare run down too many alleys, but somewhere along our path, I'd lost my Glock. 

He led the way, not the full on rush from the day before, but fast, none-the-less. I followed, keeping up without too much difficulty, and soon we were out of the sublevels. The air quality was instantly better, and the hazy mist that clung to everything at the lower level was gone.

Maxwell stopped and whistled. Looking around, I couldn't tell what had attracted his attention. We appeared to be in a less populated area, filled with empty lots, and older housing. The streets had been quiet, with few pedestrians, and not a sign of a single soldier. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me up a driveway, heading towards a house. 

Balking, I planted my feet and demanded, "What the hell are you pulling now, Maxwell? We don't have time for paying visits."

"Come on," he whispered urgently. "This guy'll help us." At my blank look, he pointed to the decal on prominent display in front of the house. "He's a sweeper."

As if that made sense. But the American's faith in his fellow Sweepers had saved us more than once; I trusted him to bring us through this time as well. 

The old guy who answered our knock ushered us inside without question. He and Maxwell held a conversation in seemingly a different language. I sat in the chair offered, and waited, looking from one to the other.

Finally, Maxwell came to the point of our visit. "We need a ride. Can you manage it?"

Peering at him intently, the old guy barked, "What's in it for me?" 

I grimaced, and stood. "Let's go. We're wasting time."

His hand on my arm, my longhaired companion said with his gaze still on the retired sweeper, "Wait. He'll do it. It's just a matter of bargaining, now." Sitting forward eagerly, he asked, "What do you have in mind?"

The grin on the man's face could have challenged Maxwell's for mischief. "Well, now, what would a couple kids on the lam have that a man of my refined taste could ever want?"

Instantly Maxwell's grin lengthened and, eyes gleaming, he opened his pack. Rolling my eyes, I stifled a groan and lowered myself back down. This could take awhile.

In a few short minutes, the old man sat back with a sigh and shook his head. I looked up from my focused study of the intricate pattern on the kitchen tile to stare at him. He was watching Duo with a strange light in his eyes, and I started to feel uneasy. My gaze flicked over to the Gundam pilot and back. 

"There is one thing you do have I would like, if you're interested, that is," the old sweeper muttered in a dejected tone as if he knew he'd be refused.

Maxwell had been replacing the items back in his pack, stopping only to look up. His brows drew together. Apparently I wasn't the only one uneasy. "Oh? And what would that be?" his voice was soft, but deadly.

The old man rose and beckoned to him. "Come back here. I don't think your friend would mind." His eyes rested on me for a moment before sliding back to Maxwell.

Frowning, the subject of his attention rose and followed him as he shuffled his way down the narrow hallway, disappearing into another room. I stood, and after taking a step, I hesitated. Maxwell was a Gundam pilot. He was able to take care of himself, and anything the old man asked in exchange for the wanted transportation would be his decision. I returned to my seat, and the study of the tile pattern.

Not more than twenty minutes had passed when both Maxwell and the old man returned to the main living area. The old man smiled easily, almost tenderly. I narrowed my eyes and frowned. No matter how much I tried, 02 wouldn't not meet my gaze. His cheeks were flushed, and he acted nervous, almost uncomfortable in the retired sweeper's presence. 

At the backdoor, the old man pulled on a jacket. "Come on, you two. We've a ways to go, and I like to be home before dark." He shuffled his way out the door, not waiting for either of us. 

Maxwell slung his pack over his shoulder and followed behind me, unusually quiet. 

The truck was old. More rust and body filler than original metal, but when started, the engine ran clean; not a stutter could be heard. The old sweeper indicated for us to settle down in the cargo area, and as soon as we did, our backs against the cab, he piled boxes, wood and junk to disguise our presence. It wasn't long before we were backing out of the driveway, and heading out to the main access roads. With any luck, our five-hour hike would be reduced to an hour drive.

I glanced at my companion. He hadn't spoke since sitting down next to me, and he seemed withdrawn, distant. "What did..." I started to ask, and when Maxwell looked up at me, I stopped. I didn't want to know. Not really. 

As if he knew what I had been about to ask, his cheeks stained red, and he looked away from me. I noticed he hadn't released his braid, but held it tightly, staring at the end. The silence stretched between us. Normally, I wouldn't have minded. But this is Maxwell, and whenever he's concern, silence is not golden. 

"Status," I commanded.

Startled, he shot me a glance. Shaking his head, he chortled before replying, "02 fucking hungry and tired." 

The power of suggestion being what it was, my stomach decided at that moment to wake. It gurgled loudly, causing Maxwell to laugh again. "Looks like your status is the same, 01." His grin was back place. Suddenly animated, he dug through his pack and brought out a pink and white bag. "One thing I didn't get while I was out and about, is food. This should work though." Opening the bag, he offered it to me first.

Looking inside, I discovered white and pink iced cookies. Raising a brow, I looked back at him. "What are they?"

Another grin. "Circus animal, pal. Good stuff!" Whether to prove it to me, or his hunger couldn't wait, his hand darted inside, and he pulled out a couple. Popping them into his mouth, he crunched down on them, watching me while smiling with the pleasure of their taste.

Almost with reluctance, I chose a cookie, and took a tentative bite. I trusted Maxwell, but his taste in food could, at times, be hazardous to most people's health. And it wasn't that I didn't like cookies; my uncertainty lay in the appeal of a pink, iced sweet cracker covered in sprinkles in the shape of an elephant. Without a doubt, their nutritional value would be non-existent. I had to admit, while Maxwell took another handful of the colorful confections, the taste wasn't bad, and though the icing was more sweet than what I liked, I found myself reaching for more.

At his gleeful look, I glared and announced, "Food is food. Even if it's a childish cookie."

Later, when we were finally on our way back to Earth and our Gundams, I found myself nodding off in my seat. Maxwell had taken the pilot's chair, and for once, I wasn't annoyed. He was the better pilot, and with my injuries, I couldn't be sure of easily getting us out of any difficulties. I trusted Maxwell to do his job well, and bring us back to Earth safely.

"Sleep, Yuy," his voice sounded as if he were in another room, and not sitting two feet from me. "I've got your back." He grinned when I grunted, but I let my eyes close anyway. He was right; he had my back.

With a start I realized Duo had been staring at me in the dark, and the cookie I held had half melted in my fingers. I hastily finished chewing it, and handed the bag back to him. He pulled out another, and passed one to me, allowing the silence to hang between us. I took a moment to try and see him, see his expression, but in the semi-darkness, with merely vague moonlight peering through the thin curtains, I could only make out his eyes. 

"What did the old man want in exchange for the ride?" The question surprised him. Heck, it did me. I hadn't realized it still bothered me; I thought I had filed it away, never to review again. 

His lips twitched, and he swallowed the last bite. Though he was not looking at me, I could still see the heightened color in his face. He threw a glance in my direction and looked down.

"You don't have to tell me." He didn't, though I would have liked to know.

A quiet laugh. "It's not what you're thinking. It wasn't perverted." His gaze rose, and strangely bashful, he said, "The old guy had a daughter, once. He said her hair was like mine, and she wore it often in a braid. She was twelve when she died. He only wanted to brush my hair, and think of her."

"Hn," I grunted. I wasn't sure what to say. Duo had shown ...compassion in fulfilling an old man's wish. I let the silence envelop us again, thinking on what he'd said. He stirred, shifting his weight, and to keep him from leaving, I asked quickly, "What happened between you and Winner during the mission?"

Another flush flooded his cheeks and he dropped his gaze. He shook his head. "Nothing."

I frowned. "Something did."

When he faced me again, I could see his brows were puckered and his mouth tightly drawn. "If you must know, Quat didn't stay where I'd left him when I went to pick up the next set of EX's. He'd gone into the building. I didn't know what happened to him, and made a fool of myself."

Taking another cookie, I paused to ask before biting into it, "What did you do?"

His jaw worked before he answered me. "I ran right into an OZ soldier. I was too worried about Quatre getting caught, and I did. Well, for a second, anyway." His eyes flicked up to mine, and a musing smile replaced the frown. "He had his gun out, and I shot him." Falling silent, he reached for another cookie, but instead of eating it, he held it up, pretty much like I had earlier -- trying to make out its shape. 

"I never thanked you," 

He nearly dropped the cookie. "Thanked me? What the fuck for?"

"For L3," I replied quietly.

I didn't see him move; he was next to me and a finger touched my arm before I knew it. "This should have been my scar. It could have been my death. You have nothing to thank me for, buddy." His voice was a strange mix of soft, tender, and hard with an edge. Flashing me a grin, he crunched down on his cracker loudly, and grabbed the bag for more. "Empty," he announced before crumpling it up.

A different kind of silence extended between us, then. I felt the tension from the day, and the failed mission the night before, fall away from me. Even though I knew it was momentary and fleeting, I let the warmth of his closeness seep into me. It was soothing sitting there in the dark, and closing my eyes for a moment, I almost heard him say, "Sleep, Yuy. I've got your back." 

"You failed your mission last night, didn't you?" his voice said instead.

My eyes opened, looking into his. It didn't matter now; the point was moot. I nodded.

"Why..." he hesitated. "What's wrong with you? Are you sick, or something?" his voice was soft now, and if he hadn't been sitting next to me, I doubt if I would have heard him.

I wanted to tell him, but the words couldn't make past my throat. I didn't know what was wrong with me; I thought I was dying. I lived in daily pain, so much pain that I was becoming a danger, to myself, my fellow pilots, Wing, and most certainly, the mission. I should have been dead. I should have put a bullet in my head before something happened that doesn't turn out to be a moot point. But to have told him this, I could not do. I only stared at him mutely, and hoped he understood.

He sighed, and turned away. When he spoke, his voice sounded hollow, broken, "Promise me one thing, Heero. If L3 means anything to you, if you felt enough about it to thank me, you have to promise me." When he looked at me again, his expression was intense, fierce, and his eyes bright. "Promise me you will not deliberately kill or get yourself killed."

A painful pounding began in my chest, and I drew in a deep breath. He was asking me the impossible; I had no control over what my actions would dictate. When I didn't answer immediately, he lowered his head, and his shoulders slumped. 

"I can't promise you that," I forced the words from my throat, dragging them up, out of the box they'd hidden themselves in. "I can promise that unless the situation warrants that kind of action, I will not deliberately seek my death, by my own or another's hand."

His head rose, and I saw him give me a rueful smile. "That's the best I'm gonna get, isn't it?"

"Hn."

He sighed again, and made to leave my bed. At the edge, he flashed me another smile: tired, sad, and wistful. "Thanks for the cookies."

I didn't reply, but had already laid back down, and stared at the ceiling, listening to him return to his own bed. In a few minutes, his breathing, even and regular, sounded in the quiet room. I rolled over on my side, and closed my eyes, willing myself to join him in sleep with the lingering taste of circus cookies in my mouth.

Sometime later, I woke to the pain raging in my stomach. Its intensity pulled me upright in my bed, instantly stifling a moan. I could not give into the pain, and closed my eyes as the room began to spin. Pain radiated out, forcing its way down into my intestines and up into my chest. My stomach spasmed, and I felt the bile rise. 

Quickly I jumped from my bed, and hurried as quietly as I could, rushing for the bathroom. Habit made me close and lock the door before I fell to my knees at the toilet. Bile rolled out, thick with cookie clumps, and splashed into the water. Again, I vomited. Blood splashed into the bowl. Amazed at what I was seeing, not truly believing it, I continued to retch, no longer bringing up bile, or even remaining dregs of circus crackers, the blood flowed as though a vein had opened. 

The compulsion to throw up stilled, and I rested against the cool porcelain of the tub behind me. The force of my retching ripped and pulled at my stomach; the pain had it firmly held in its grip. And it squeezed. I couldn't help or stop the groan that sounded; I couldn't move. Bile, mixed with blood, rose again, and I gagged on it, spitting it from my mouth as I lay.

"Heero? Heero, you okay?" 

Maxwell. He must have heard me leave the room. I tried to rise, but fell back, too weak to hold myself up. "Go back to bed, Duo." 

"Don't give me that shit. Just tell me if you're okay."

I gasped for breath, and started to reply. The retching started again. Rolling weakly on my side, I vomited, bringing up more blood. It wasn't in great amounts, but the red staining the white tile appeared to be a lot. And through it all, the pain raged on.

Faintly, I heard Duo outside the door knocking. If I could have, I would have let him in. The pain released it hold, briefly, only to clamp down more tightly. I cried out, unable to stop it. Curling into myself, my eyes closed. I wanted to sleep. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to die.

Warmth surrounded me. I heard a heart beating beneath my ear and felt a hand in my hair, touching my face. Someone was calling me, and for a moment, the pain eased.

I opened my eyes, and saw wide, frightened, violent ones staring down at me. The pain flared again, milder this time, and at such a level I was able to fight it off, push it down. Duo was talking; Duo was afraid. It didn't make sense to me. His braid swept in front of my face, brushing by my hand. Clasping it, I pulled on it. 

"Duo, shut up," 

Seeing the flicker of confusion in his expression, I only smiled, and the pained suck me down with it again.

~


End file.
